The Once Future King: Part II: The Hidden Truths
by EvelMyst
Summary: Part 2: Nick doesn't know who he is any more, can a visit from a stranger and a spiritual quest to find himself again save his soul and make him whole again? N/G slash warning Non-con warning... Nick centric
1. Chapter 1

**The Once Future King  
Part Two:** Hidden Truths  
An **Evenstar** Story  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Warnings:** Other Pairings

A/N: Thank you all for waiting, I'm sorry this took longer than expected, I hope you enjoy the second installment. I also want to note, that Greg's part is minimal in this, but his role in this part is very important. you will see... I hope you enjoy please, take the time to reply. -EVENSTAR

* * *

Chapter One: Officer Down

--

Nick groaned something inaudible in his sleep. His legs were flailing around as his body twisted in his sleep. Moans grew louder and more distinct as the name, 'Greg' clearly escaped his lips. This was the fourth time in three nights that he has been caught in this familiar dream.

"Nick," Adrianna whispered. She was desperate to wake him from the tormenting dream. "Nick," she called louder. He didn't respond. His hands clutched his head, as the ear-shattering scream escaped his lips. In a flash, he sprang from the bed and scurried to the bathroom to puke.

He heaved painfully into the toilet emptying the last of his stomach contents. Nick hated this. Defeated and exhausted, Nick sat there on the cold tile floor with his knees drawn to his chest. He popped three pills in his mouth chewing them as if they were food.

His breath was strained, his head continued to throb. Through his ailments, he noticed a trashed pregnancy test. Nick crawled on all fours to the wastebasket to get a closer look. It was negative again.

Another wave of nausea hit him, and again he found himself bent over the toilet puking his guts out. Briefly, he wondered, _'Why me God?' _

The disappointment from the failed pregnancy test hurt almost worse than the pounding of his head. They had been trying for years now to get pregnant. He had always wanted to be a father.

That was just a dream now. Nick had hoped that it wasn't true when the doctor told him he had an incomplete 'Y' chromosome. The news made him feel like lesser of a man than he already did. He looked at himself in the mirror and he didn't see any of the signs of his disorder. The doctor did tell him he was only one sequence short from normal. It may not show from the outside, but it was enough to prevent him from fathering a child.

At first, Nick denied it. He didn't think it was possible. However, no matter how hard he tried, what kind of enhancers he could buy, or what position he used, he just could not get the job done. Nick told himself, if he didn't get Adrianna pregnant this time, he would stop trying. He didn't mean just fathering a child, but sex in general. For a while now, Nick had been bored with their sex life for a while now. He had no explanation for the lack of interest. All he knew was that he'd rather sleep in peace and quiet over making love to her. The truth of the matter Nick found that he just wasn't sexually attracted to Adrianna as a good husband should be.

"Honey, are you all right?" Adrianna asked concerned.

"Yeah," Nick lied. He wasn't really all right. It had been a long time since he was truly all right. The last time he was 'all right' was a time before these mind splitting, gut puking headaches. That was if there was a time before them. If there was Nick certainly couldn't recall it.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure," he answered regretfully. Awkward silence ensued between the two. "Why didn't you tell me about the unfavorable result?"

"I didn't want to upset you."

Her eyes were downcast, knowing how much being a father meant to her husband. It disheartened her to know that he will never experience the joy of holding his baby for the first time. The light she could imagine in his eyes and the smile that spread across his face. Adrianna found that she wanted to see Nick with his child so much that she even considered cheating with a person with similar characteristics as Nick.

"You should have told me anyways. Damn it, I know that I will never be a biological father. I'm just not properly equipped."

"So what do you want to do, Nicky?"

"I don't know, Adrianna. What I want I can't have. The way I see it the ball's in your court. Do you want to stay with a man who can never father your baby, or…"

"Or leave you for someone else," she finished his sentence.

"I wouldn't blame you for just leaving."

"Nick, you know I want a baby."

"I know. That's why I am not going to force you to stay with me. I have the same odds of being struck by the finger of God as I do of fathering your child… If you chose to leave me, I understand."

"I don't want to leave you Nicky."

"I know. But it's not fair to keep you with me when I can't give you what you want. I'm sorry."

"We'll figure out a way, Nicky. We will."

"I don't think there is, Adrianna. There's nothing they can do about my gimpy chromosome."

"So, we just get a divorce?"

"Yeah," Nick reluctantly agreed.

"You're upset, why don't we wait until tomorrow before we make any final decision."

"If it will make you feel better."

"It will." She gave a weak smile. "You coming back to bed?"

"Nah, I think I am going to stay up for a while longer."

"I'll be here if you need me. Good night," she pecked him on the cheek and disappeared back into the bedroom.

--

Leaned over the balcony railing, he stared off to the brightly glistening stars deep in thought. Who was the man that frequently invaded his dreams? Did he really exist, or was he just a figment of his imagination.

"Who are you?" Nick whispered to the stars above.

The night air was cool and crisp as he stood there watching the world in darkness. He pulled the cigarette to his lips and inhaled the tobacco fumes deep into his lungs. His nerves dulled with every breath he took. Nick hated to smoke, but on nights like this, it was the only thing that took the edge off.

His eyes stared off into the distance, reflecting on his life. He thought about his wife, Adrianna. Nick recalled all the wonderful moments that he had with her. He hated the idea of a divorce, but it wasn't like him to keep someone away from something they really wanted. Adrianna really wanted a child of her own and Nick couldn't give her that.

Sure, they briefly discussed adoption. But Adrianna did not want to deal with the red tape. From Nick's position, a divorce was the only option.

Magnificent reds, pinks, and purples of the sunrise were not enough to lift Nick's spirits. He watched the gorgeous sunrise and saw another day to torment him.

His life was hanging off the last rung of the ladder. Each day that went by another finger seemed to slip off. Nick's life was spiraling out of control a little at the time. He couldn't put his finger on what it was. Something was patronizing him every day silently as if a man was sticking his tongue out at him and that was supposed to mean something.

It was nearly as if he lost something of importance and he couldn't remember where he placed it. Whatever the object is, it was always just out of his reach. No matter how hard he tried to find it, the object just eluded him and yet another man stuck his tongue out at him with that glint in his eyes. Once, Nick had compared his life to a jigsaw puzzle with two or three pieces missing. He had no idea how accurate that analogy was.

Around eight o'clock, Adrianna appeared at the French door with the phone clinched in her hands. "Police chief Stefan Coufal's on the phone."

"Can it wait?" Nick answered bitterly.

"He says it's urgent."

Enragement briefly overtook Nick. He took three deep breaths and shut his eyes to regain his composure before talking to the ill-timed phone call.

"Yeah," he spoke into the device.

"Nick, I'm sorry to call you on your off day, but there is a domestic dispute in Oak Cliff. Some druggie is getting into it bad with his wife…"

"You couldn't have called Clinton or Freeman to handle this?"

"Sorry man, you and Rezak are the only ones we can spare. All the rest are on pursuit of a stolen vehicle."

"Great," Nick rolled his eyes. "They really know when to ruin my day."

"I'm sorry to inconvenience you. Nick, but I could use your help."

"Not a problem." He threw the phone back on the hook. Steam spouted from his ears. Nick was pissed. It was his first day off in seven months. His fist slammed hard into the dresser and he didn't even flinch at the pain.

With a change of attire and a slam of the door, Nick was gone.

--

"What's goin' on?" Nick approached his partner.

"Typical lover's quarrel," answered his partner, Brandon Rezak. "According to dispatch, drugs were involved."

"Great," Nick sighed. Domestic disputes were the calls he hated the most. He never knew what to expect when he barged through those doors. There was no way for Nick to know if the person on the other side of that door was armed or just really ticked off.

"Let's get this over with," Nick sighed and headed for the house.

"Dallas P.D., open up," Brandon knocked on the door. Moments passed without an answer. He called out to them one last time before kicking the door in.

The place was a dive, covered in layers of filth from floor to ceiling. Nick inwardly wondered how people could live like this.

They continued to search the crumbling house with their guns at the ready. An unexpected clank of a falling pot startled the two men aimed at the emaciated cat rounding the corner.

"Relax man, it's just a cat." Brandon tried to reassure his jumpy partner.

"It's not the cat I'm worried about," Nick replied and turned the corner.

The hall was covered in family pictures. They looked nice enough, dressed in their Sunday best wearing cheesy smiles upon their faces.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" cried a distressed woman from the back room. They rushed to the door and entered with a crash. Seconds after they entered, they stood frozen to their spots stunned by the sight upon them.

"Sir, there's no reason to shoot anyone. Put that gun down," Nick stated as calm as he could. His heart beat rapidly. The scene was tense. The wife hid behind the armoire crying, as the man stood fast with the gun pointed directly at her.

The tension escalated with their abrupt appearance and now they were included at the business end of the gun.

"You fucking called the cops, you bitch," Bubba Watson continued to shout.

"Bubba, don't do this," his wife whimpered crouched down behind the fallen armoire.

"I will do whatever I fucking like, you whore."

"It's not what you think," she cried out trying to get him to see reason.

Bubba wasn't hearing a word of it. A vital chord had snapped within him. His eyes closed and pulled the trigger. The woman fell to the ground with a bullet wound to her head. Brandon rushed to her aid.

Nick watched helplessly as his partner was gunned down in cold blood. It was like a horrible motion picture that played out before his eyes. His partner was shot. He raised his gun, but Bubba was faster. The bullet struck him hard in the gut. Excruciating pain seared through his body, and he crumbled to the floor. With his last remaining strength, he radioed, "Stokes, officers down, officers down, request immediate back up."

* * *

To Be Continued...


	2. Visitors in the Dark

Chapter Two: Visitors in the Night

--

Brown eyes cracked open and strained against the brightness of the florescent light overhead to see the stark-white room around him. The room was unfamiliar to him. For a second, he wondered where he was, and then he recalled how he got in the room. Vaguely, he could remember struggling to call for back up as the world turned black around him.

As the disorientation wore off, he became more aware of his surroundings. The room had to be a hospital room, the beeping must've been a heart monitor, and the tubes running down his trachea would have to be a ventilator. At first, Nick thought it must have been some horrible dream, but the stark surroundings, and the beeping of his heart proved that the events really took place. He really saw that bastard gun down Brandon Rezak, a new father, his best friend and partner.

He hit the button for assistance and shortly later, a cheerful nurse walked in and took him by the hand.

"Is there something I can do for you?" she asked and Nick nodded in response. "Do you hurt?" Nick shook his head. "Do you want to know what's wrong with you?" Nick nodded again.

The nurse sighed as she took a seat next to the wounded cop. "First off, you're going to be all right. You're not seriously injured." This news greatly improved Nick's mood, however that didn't explain why he was on a ventilator if his injury wasn't bad. Looking directly in her eyes, he pointed to the tubes exiting his mouth.

"You are one lucky man. It isn't everyday that a man comes through our door with a gunshot wound to his thoracic region with minimal injuries. You really are quite lucky. You're injuries could have been much worse."

Losing patience with the nurse's delays, he pointed to the ventilator tubes again.

"Nick, honey, you received a high calibre shot to the diaphragm and it exited your body just to the left of your spine. Your diaphragm received most of the trauma. In addition, you also sustained a bruised lung and a cracked rib. You weren't breathing too well when they brought you in here, and your doctor thinks you will heal faster if your diaphragm muscles were allowed to relax."

He nodded slowly accepting his condition for what it was. The nurse again assured him that he was in fair condition despite needing assistance to breathe.

"Is there anything else?" Nick nodded yes again. He wanted… no needed to know if Brandon made it or not. Even though he understood the chances of Brandon's survival was low, he still had to know. Nick tried to think of how to say what he wanted, but found it hard as he gestured several things repeatedly. It was his desperate attempt to make her understand.

"Do you want to know about your partner?" she finally asked believing that is what he was trying. Nick nodded profusely, desperately wanting to know the condition of Brandon. Oh, he knew it was bleak. He may not remember too much from that horrible day, but he does recall the bullet striking Brandon in the neck as he went to help the unfortunate woman in the bedroom.

The nurse's eyes were sad, and Nick knew instantly that Brandon Rezak didn't make it. It was a shame too, because Brandon was a good man, and he would have made a terrific father, Nick just knew.

"I'm sorry," the nurse said softly. "We couldn't help him," she bid Nick a good night and left the room.

Nick shut his eyes tightly, holding back the tears that threatened to roll over his cheeks. His father's voice echoed in his head telling him real men don't cry. He tried to hold in his emotional weakness, yet the tears came anyways.

Within the walls of his body, Nick felt a whole range of emotions. Most of all, he felt grief over the premature death of his best friend and partner. However, he also felt stupid. Again and again he thought to himself, _'Why didn't I wear my vest? I'm smarter than that.' _he scolded his actions. He knew better than to walk in the middle of a heated domestic dispute involving drugs without his bulletproof vest. Not wearing it nearly cost him his life and he has a bullet wound through his diaphragm that proves it.

A bulletproof vest wouldn't have saved Brandon though. Before his very eyes, his life shattered into pieces as the walls closed around him. What's worse, all Nick could do was stand there in the middle and watch as it happened. He couldn't prevent it, or reverse it. Whether he wanted it or not, his life was changing.

"I'm sorry for your loss," the nurse gave her sincere condolences before leaving the room. Alone, his thoughts wandered again. Thinking about what he could have done different. Each time he thought on the events the more he believed he should have been better. No matter how he looked at it, he hesitated on the draw of his gun. He tried to rationalize what more he could have done, but that was the only answer he could think of that might have saved Brandon's life and for that he blamed himself.

In the silence and the darkness of the room, his eyes drifted shut. However, his sleep was far from peaceful. His dreams were tormenting, filled with pain, tears, and grief. That man appeared in each one, as a boy crying by an old dried out riverbed. Nick tried to go to him, but the kid ran away before he was able to catch him.

Searing pain shot through his body. If he could, he would have screamed for the pain he felt. His body convulsed violently. Doctors ran in and held the man down screaming at the nurses for one drug or another. They gazed at each other uncertain what caused such a horrible fit of pain. His eyes opened, once they shot him with some morphine and his hands flew to his head.

"Does your head hurt?" one doctor asked. Nick nodded in response. "Can you tell us using your hands how long in years you have been experiencing these type of headaches?"

Nick went to hold up his fingers, but he couldn't be sure when the headaches started exactly. He really could not recall how many times, years, days he suffered from these massive headaches. He only knew he wished he didn't have them at all.

"This should help control the pain," the doctor stated. "The nurse will keep me posted if anything goes wrong. Nick, I want you to take it easy, your body needs rest it's been through a lot. Oh, your father's here to see you."

If there was one person in the world, Nick didn't want to see at that time it was his father. He wanted to scream it to the doctor, but seeing there was a tube running down his throat that was impossible. His father walked into the room and was immediately questioned about the headaches Nick was experiencing. Bill told them the headaches were nothing, and that he has always had them. The doctor seemed to buy it, at first, but was he convinced? Far from it, from what Nick saw.

There wasn't a time Nick could remember hating his father more. As he took a seat next to his bed and took him by the hand, all he wanted to do was deck him square in the jaw. Cisco spoke to him about how proud he was, unaware of the true feelings he felt.

"I know you'd say otherwise, but you're really a hero, Nick," Cisco spoke plainly. The words made Nick cringe. If he were some hero, Brandon Rezak wouldn't have died. If he truly were someone worthy of notice, it would be him on the deathbed, not Brandon. The world would have been better if Nick had died instead.

In Nick's eyes, his father was arrogant, self-righteous, pompous, and conceded. The most conceded person he knew. His father sat by his side until the wee hours of the morning until the nurse walked in and told him he'd have to leave while they changed his dressing. If Nick could have, he would have thanked her for running him off.

"I thought you could use a break from him," she said. "No offence, but your father seems like the overbearing type of person," Nick tried to smile at the comment because it was a fairly true assessment of his father's character. "You have pretty eyes," she commented as she untied the back of his gown. He watched as she pulled the bloody bandage away from his skin and gently cleaned the wound to his gut.

Pointing to his gut, the nurse smiled at him. "Your wound looks really good, there's no sign of infection," she smiled and recovered the gaping wound in his chest. "I'm going to roll you over to your side now, so I can change the dressing on your back. This might feel a bit odd with the breathing tube down your throat."

It took the nurse no time at all to change the dressing on his back and he was back lying on the inclined bed.

"Try to get some rest," she smiled sweetly. "Good night, Nick."

With smiling eyes, he held up his hand and wiggled his fingers at her.

Down the hall, a man waited and watched as the nurse left Nick's room to sit back at the nurses' station down the hall. He was silent, careful not to make a sound on this very silent night. The man dressed in animal skins waited until he was absolutely certain that the coast was clear before sneaking into the young man's room.

Suavely, he glided across the floor, silently reaching the door without notice from either the nurses or the security guard making his rounds. He stood for a few moments at the foot of Nick's bed watching him sleep in a tormented slumber. Even as his sleep was drug induced, it was restless and Nick's body twisted and turned beyond his control.

It took him no time to figure out this tortured man's soul was fighting an epic battle right there in that bed. A battle so fierce both sides were losing, and the man feared what would happen if defeat were near.

Nick tossed and turned, the heart monitor jumped the charts from his dreams. The man feared a doctor would rush in at any minute, but none arrived. He sat by his side, and took him by the hand holding it tight as to tell him to hang on just a bit longer, hang on because help has arrived.

"Don't give up," he whispered his desperate plea to the distressed man. He knew if Nick lost this war raging inside him, he would be lost forever. In defeat, his soul would become too far eroded to be salvaged. The person he was meant to be would be gone. All the good he was destined to do, all the people he was destined to help would wither and die without this man winning the raging war beneath his breast.

Droplets of cold sweat dropped off his forehead, his brown eyes, saturated in pain opened as he bolted upright in his bed, his hands clamped on tight to his head. It wasn't the first time tonight this strange, yet irresistible man invaded his dreams. Tears spurt from his eyes and his entire body convulsed from the pain.

The stranger wondered if he should get a doctor, but knew within his heart that a doctor wouldn't be able to save the man from this pain.

Nick clicked the lights on low, and attempted to regain his composure.

"Excuse me, I don't mean to intrude, but you were calling to me," the stranger said softly.

He was a tall man, maybe an inch over six-foot. His facial features were prominent with high cheekbones, and a tall forehead, complete with intense eyes and chiselled lips. His skin was reddish brown, covered in time-endured wrinkles. He wasn't in his old age, but certainly wasn't a new boot to the world. His hair was long and black, pulled into a tight braid at the back. Looking at the man, Nick swore he travelled back in time. There was no way people still wore animal skins in the nature this man wore them.

Nick looked at the man pointedly as to ask if that was true. The stranger chuckled, his eyes lighting up all the while with amusement.

"In my dreams, your spirit spoke to me, a boy cried out to whoever would listen. It returned on countless occasions to speak to my spirit."

Nick couldn't believe what he was hearing. His spirit visited this stranger. How could it be? What could it mean? His head throbbed, and his heart ached for a person he couldn't recall.

"I came to the crying boy, and set out on a vision quest and found you right in this bed. I must say, when I walked into this room, I wasn't expecting to find a full-grown man, but a child."

Nick stared at the man blinkingly before reaching for the notepad one of the nurses left for him. He took it in his hand and wrote in his neat handwriting, _'What do you want from me?'_

"What do you want from yourself?"

The man stood there and watched the expressions come and fade from Nick's face. Many were the same expressions worn by the boy who frequently visited his dreams. However, the man lying in this bed had no recollection of this boy that desperately wanted and needed help. It was almost if this man were two different people.

Two saddened brown eyes stared at him. The expression within his eyes familiar to the man from his memory of the visions he's seen. Nick lay there in the hospital bed thinking about the question asked to him. Honestly, he doesn't know what he wants for himself.

He took the tablet in his hand thinking on what to say to the stranger. Again, he asked himself the question and again he truly did not know other than a change.

_'I don't know'_ he scribbled into the paper. _'I'm tired of people trying to help me…'_

"I can imagine," the stranger chuckled, the ends of his lips curled into a smile. "Lying in a hospital bed with a bullet wound to your diaphragm, suffering from excruciating headaches. I'm sure everyone's offered their two cents."

_'Yeah…'_ He wrote. _'They all have something to say'_

"We both know they can only bring you to the path. It is you who must walk it and face its dangers. We all must walk our own path in life. If you are unable and are ready to find the path you are to walk in life, follow the Brazos River to the home of my people. We will welcome you into our home. When you arrive, and I hope that you do, ask for Singing Wolf. I cannot promise an absolution, but I can promise that I will do what I can."

Nick listened intently to the man memorizing every syllable the man uttered. He was the first person not to offer him an answer or a solution, but offered his assistance.

"It is getting late, and you should be getting some rest. I hope you get back on your feet soon, good night sir."

Nick watched the man walk silently out of his room and thought about what the man was offering. The words the man spoke made perfect sense. There was little these people could do to heal the wounds in his soul. The rest of the night he spent thinking about the strange visitor. Even during the dawning hours when he pretended to sleep, his mind dwelled on the words of his unexpected visitor.

The more Nick thought about his words, the more he realized how broken he really was. The worst part, he had no idea how he got in this condition, or realized all he wanted for himself was peace with himself.

Around midday, a familiar face walked through the door. Cisco took a seat next to his son and took him by the hand. "How's my favourite cop?" His father stated with a firm hand.

As more time passed, the more Nick found his tolerance levels of his father dwindling, until recently he could barely stand to be in the same room with him. He wished the man would leave and not come back to see him. However, that wasn't like him to just step aside.

For the next three weeks, he silently tolerated the presence of his father. Three weeks passed and he was sick of the stiff uncomfortable beds. He was tired of being unable to voice the events as they truly happened that night. Many speculations about that dreadful day have been circulating around the news. No one knows what really happened that day, except for Nick and he's been on a ventilator unable to talk for the past weeks. Part of him wanted to scream the events to the world to tell them what transpired on that dreadful day. And then, another part of him wants to keep the events of that day to himself never to be spoken again. Brandon Rezak is dead and nothing he did or could say would change that fact.

Nick continued to improve throughout his time and soon he was off the breathing tube to a more comfortable system continuing to grow stronger and stronger. After forty days of lying in that bed, the doctor walked in with a clipboard in hand.

Every other day, the doctor lessened his dependence on the machines until he was beginning to breathe mostly on his own. Now the doctor stood before him smiling broadly.

"Good news," his eyes beamed upon the man he's been helping return to his former self. "I do believe you are ready to get out of this joint."

Nothing sounded better to Nick's ears. His smile broadened at the great news. The rest of the day Nick spent packing all the get-well cards, flowers, and anything else he had stashed in the room for his lengthy stay. At the door, his parents stood ready to bring him home.

"Well are you ready?" Cisco asked his son, barely relying on the ventilator's help.

"Yeah," Nick answered coarsely. "I'm ready."

With his bags in his father's hands, they walked out the door and his parents took him home, back to the ranch in Spade, Texas.

* * *

To Be Continued...


	3. Gilbert's Offer

The Once Future King  
Part II: The Hidden Truths  
An Evenstar Story

--  
Chapter Three:  
Gilbert's Case

Six emotionally and physically painful months passed since Nick was released from the hospital. Even though he's had time to come to terms with the events of that horrible day, Nick still has trouble believing that Brandon Rezak won't be walking through his door.

Nick always loved Brandon. To him, Brandon was more than just a good person who loved his wife and child dearly. Brandon was family in more ways than one. He was the person Nick could always look forward to seeing, even on his gloomiest of days. There wasn't a day that went by that Brandon wasn't up to something mischievous. Once, Nick correlated Brandon to Dennis the Menace for how he'd go gallivanting around looking for any insignificant device he could use to brighten his day.

As Nick sat in his armchair, he thought on Brandon Rezak. He did that a lot recently. For hours on end he'd watch the bustling city pass before his eyes. Yet, he was unable to join the crowded streets down there afraid that the same evil fate that took Brandon from this world would come back for him. Sure, the man who gunned down Nick's partner was caught. However, for Nick, justice was not obtainable. That vile man took something from him that wasn't replaceable. Brandon's life was worth more to him than the worst punishment under the law. The man should be made to suffer in Nick's opinion.

"How are you holding up?" Adrianna asked from the doorway. Things between them have grown awkward over the past few months that Nick's been home. The relationship was well past strained with the divorce and all.

Adrianna was beautiful as ever, however Nick couldn't seem to care for her. He grunted a half answer and disappeared to his favourite place in the house.

"You can't hide from this," Adrianna followed him to the balcony.

"Why not?" Nick turned toward her looking for an answer.

"Because the world goes on, Nick. It's what we do, we get up and we move on."

"Maybe I don't want to move on," he turned away from her. The sun glared in his eyes, but he felt no pain. Nick hadn't felt much of anything since returning back to this house. The only thing he's felt is empty without Brandon around.

Even though several months have passed since Brandon's burial, his death still haunted him. Countless times, Adrianna tried to convince him things would improve. However, Nick couldn't see how. Who else could he count on to fill his car with jelly beans and nearly falling off the roof from laughter?

Adrianna watched her soon to be ex-husband suffer from the doorway. For the past six months, she's stood aside watching him unable to save him from this torment. Even if she could, Nick wouldn't allow it. He wouldn't hear of it.

Through the night, she watched as he tossed and turned, kicking the sheets off his battered body. Tonight, he wasn't muttering Greg's name, but Brandon's. These days, he didn't wake up with the mind-splitting headaches of a lover's past, but muttering 'no not him, please not him,' in cold sweats of terror.

Adrianna did not know which was more tormenting for Nick; the nightmares over the slaying of his best friend in arms or the wet dreams about this mysterious, 'Greg' that left him in agony. Every night she stood at the door watching her troubled husband moan miserably in his sleep. It was a wonder he got any sleep at all, with how he tossed and turned.

The room was still dark when the shrill sounds of the alarm clock interrupted Nick's slumber. His hand fell hard against the snooze button and the clock silenced for a while longer. Adrianna's weary eyes opened as her hand rubbed the kink in her neck. Sometime during the night, she unknowingly fell asleep slumped against the doorframe and awoke with the sounding of Nick's alarm.

On the second ringing, Adrianna pulled herself up from the doorway and walked over toward her soon-to-be ex-husband. Her hand draped over his sweat-covered shoulder and he jerked awake with a small but horrified scream.

"Shhh," she took him in her arms and rocked him gently. "It was just a bad dream, hun, just a bad dream."

It took Nick a few seconds to realize he was in the safety of his bedroom and it was Adrianna's arms wrapped around him.

"You all right?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Nick answered breaking loose of her embrace and padded near emotionlessly into the bathroom. He cranked the shower on, the spray scorching hot. The falling water singed his delicate skin as he stepped under the spray, but he couldn't seem to care. Within his head, he was grateful he could still feel the pain of the water burning his shoulders. If it weren't for the pain from his morning showers, Nick feared he wouldn't feel anything.

The sun was barely breaking the horizon by the time he stepped outside to his old busted truck. Vibrant colours filled the sky of pastel purples, pinks, blues, yellows, and oranges filled the sky as the sun rose higher into the sky. The clouds parted under the bright glistening rays, yet the lifting of the clouds was hardly enough to lift Nick's spirits.

By the time Nick arrived at the station, the sun was high in the sky and the clouds were all but gone. The place hadn't changed a bit since he's left. However, it didn't feel the same without his partner there to brighten his day. The officers welcomed him back with handshakes, hugs, and pats on the bats, but none of it made up for the friend he lost.

The entire department stopped what they were doing and watched the young officer walk back to his desk in the corner. If it were there was another way to his desk without passing the entire department, Nick would have taken it. The last thing he wanted was special attention. Unfortunately, everyone was giving him special attention. Part of him wanted to turn around and disappear into some cave.

When Nick arrived at his desk in the furthest most corner, he noticed that he wasn't as alone as he should hope. He wanted to say something, but noticed the man busy investigating the paperweight Adrianna gave him last year.

His hair was greying, but did not appear to be of old age. His face and eyes still filled with the jubilation of life. He must have been in his mid to late thirties by Nick's reckoning. Upon his nose rested a pair of thick-framed glasses that enlarged his pristine blue eyes.

"Hi," he stated quite forwardly. "I was just admiring your paperweight, Eurytides Marcellus," he said with the same tone. "It's a beautiful specimen."

"Thanks, I think," Nick sunk to the chair that sat right beside his desk. He eyed the man with a curious gaze, but did not say a word to him.

"My name's Gil Grissom, from the Las Vegas Crime Lab," he introduced himself and offered his hand.

Accepting the introduction, "Nick Stokes, Dallas P.D. it's good to meet your acquaintance, sir."

Nick watched as the man nosed around his desk. Nearly as though he were analyzing Nick's entire life by the contents found within the drawers. The man poked through every drawer, making an odd humming sound when he found something of notable interest to him.

"Am I under investigation?" Nick finally asked.

"No," Gil pulled from his desk. "I find other people's lives fascinating. There's so much you can learn from what a person finds within a desk."

"Oh?" Nick's shoulders slumped downward as his self-confidence dwindled to little more than the size of a toothpick.

"From the outside, your desk is neat and tidy, organized. Inside, tells a completely different story," Gil cleared his throat. "The inside is organized just as the outside, but within seems collect non essential elements necessary for the job at hand. You don't seem the type of guy to smoke grass, Officer Stokes, but you do have a bag of grass in your desk. I'm assuming that you confiscated it at one point of time and placed it in the desk for safe keeping and never removed it."

Nick's face reddened having forgotten about the small bag of weed that was located in the second drawer on the left. Strictly speaking, he wasn't supposed to keep drugs he confiscated off a druggie. Grissom was discrete at least and did not push the matter further.

Gil opened another drawer pulling out a small square package and held it tight between his index and middle fingers. "I am fascinated by this though," he placed the slender package down on the desk. Nick's face reddened at the sight of it. He had no explanation for how that got in there. All he could figure was it must have slipped out of his wallet or it was one of Brandon Rezak's practical jokes. Embarrassing Nick was Brandon's favourite pastime. Either way Nick couldn't explain how a condom ended up in his desk.

He placed the small packet back in the drawer it came from.

"None of these though interest me as much as this, though," he pulled out a book from the bottom most drawer to the left. It was an old leather bound book, quite worn from the looks of it.

Gil cracked the book to read the inscription on the cover page, which read, "To my beloved Nick, I hope you find what you are looking for. I hope this helps. Sincerely yours in love always, Greg."

Nick had never seen this book before. He took it out of his hand and flipped through the pages. Heart filled poems covered the pages in the sloppy scrawl of another man. Some were stained with what appeared to be semen, while tears smudged others. As he flipped through it, he noticed charcoal etchings. Most of them were likenesses of him, in each one his eyes were filled with love or sadness. Some of them were erotic, drawings of him nude. This struck him odd, because he couldn't remember posing nude for any art class or anyone drawing him. The only person he could think of that could have drawn these were Adrianna. However, she can't even draw stick figures. These drawings were almost lifelike. The likeness of him was almost uncanny.

He continued flipping through the book watching as the pictures became more erotic. There was a picture drawn from his perspective looking down his body at his erect penis. His hand rested beside it as another's hand was wrapped around it, a mouth hovering over the engorged organ. There was not a doubt in Nick's mind that it was a picture of him about to receive head. What struck him odd was that it was another man giving. The notion nearly sickened Nick and he slammed the book shut unwilling to acknowledge that he might not be as straight as he believes he is.

His cheeks burned hot as embarrassment struck him. He could not recall when these were drawn, but he knew they were of him. Even though the pictures embarrassed him, he still longed to look at them further. There were still pictures to be looked at and slowly he reopened the book to look at the next picture.

A gasp left his mouth, his face flushed from the sight etched into the page. It was him, over the same man giving him head in the previous picture. This time however, he was over the man, his hand over his shoulder the other on his erection. The man's knees were drawn up and his face appeared blissfully happy. Then it dawned on Nick that it was a picture of him fucking this young man. His heart nearly stopped and slammed the book closed a second time.

"I take it you did not like what you saw?" Grissom asked.

He didn't want to talk about it any more. Grissom had no right to poke around his desk and while at first it was all good fun, now it's gone a bit too far. Whoever drew these pictures and wrote the sad love poems obviously did not want someone other than him poking around this book. He wanted to call out to Grissom that he had no right to poke around his things and took the book and quickly shoved it away deep inside his desk.

"You think you know me from what you find in my desk do you?" Nick stood from his seat his chest out proudly. "You don't know me at all."

Grissom didn't answer or try. Clearly, he had crossed that invisible line and he should have known that Nick could react badly to his snooping. If looks could kill, Gil Grissom would surely be dead now. Things would have been worse if Detective Coufal hadn't shown up when he did. Naturally, his sense of good timing kicked in and interrupted the pending brawl between them. Not that Nick would have degraded himself to rolling on the floor fighting on his first day back, but the temptation was definitely there.

"Ah, good, you two have met," Detective Coufal stated placing his hand over Nick's shoulder. "I'm guessing you two have introduced yourself?"

The young officer nodded slightly not taking his eyes off the nosy man, not even for a second.

"Well then, I guess there's no point in my saying that you two will be working a case together then."

_'WHAT!'_ Nick's mind snapped to full attention. This strange man from Las Vegas and he would be working a case… together? His brown eyes glared over to the greying man now sitting attentively in his chair.

"I guess he didn't tell you that," Detective Coufal stated the rather obvious.

"You could say that," Nick said and continued to stare daggers at this man, Gilbert Grissom.

"Nick you are familiar with the Jake Novak case from a few years ago?"

"Novak, yeah, yeah, he was the primary suspect in a homicide not too long ago. Up in Watauga if I remember correctly. He jumped bail right before the case went to trial and that's the last we heard of him."

"Well, he might be back," Grissom interjected. Nick's attention peaked at the words spoken. If there wasn't a man alive that he wanted to incarcerate more than Jake Novak. After the stunt he pulled Nick would make it his personal vendetta to see that this man is behind bars where he belongs.

"We found his finger print on Savannah Adler's dresser."

"Yeah, who's she?"

"A missing girl from Las Vegas." Well, that explained what Grissom was doing so far from Las Vegas. "We have it within our knowledge to say that Jake Novak's back in town, and I think he may have this little girl with him."

Nick thought back on the case and everything stated there. Pushing Grissom out of his way, he dug in the lower drawer of his desk to find the book with all his notes planted there. Nick read them carefully, reacquainting himself with Jake Novak. In the corner of the book, he noted a random comment involving a child. They wanted a child, but were unable to have one. Then something clicked inside Nick's head. It all made sense to him finally.

"I think I understand why Jake Novak murdered that young girl."

Grissom sat there looking at him curiously. "It wasn't out of cold blood as we thought. He was after a child, her child, but she fought back." Grissom's eyes seemed to light up under the revelation. "I think, Jake's found a new child to be his daughter."

"I think you're right," Grissom agreed. "I think it's time that we go and pay our friend up in Watauga another visit."

The last time Nick went to the Novak house, his appearance wasn't exactly welcomed, and he had no doubt that this appearance will be even less welcomed than the first. Of course, back in those days, he was with the Watauga Police Department, and a rookie on the force. Nick's prior involvement does explain why Stefan Coufal was eager for him to assist in Gilbert Grissom's missing person.

Along the way, Nick asked about Grissom's job at the Las Vegas Crime Lab. In a time when his wits were worn to the bitter end. A part of Nick that longed to get out of the Dallas area and away from his father's dictating hand. Before now though, Nick had neither the will nor the way to break loose. However, now working the case with Gil Grissom, he found himself more intrigued by Gil's profession the more he talked about it.

He wanted to know how he could become one of these CSI guys, and Grissom informed him that he'd be willing to train anyone who's willing to learn. "If you are interested, in six months we're putting together a night shift. You're more than welcome to join us if that's what you want."

Nick's eyes widened almost to the point of non-belief. He really couldn't explain it. Being here at the Dallas P.D., he felt trapped. His father practically forced him into the department because it was an honourable career and because he insisted that all his boys went into some avenue of law enforcement. What made Grissom's offer so appealing to him was not only the fact that it was in Las Vegas, but that it was involved in law enforcement. This would assure Nick, that he'd be out of his father's control, but within his good graces. Granted, he is expecting his father to be angry at his decision no matter what. He just hoped that Cisco wouldn't be as mad about him quitting the force if he was going into another avenue of law enforcement.

There was something about Grissom's offer to train him as a CSI that gave Nick warm fuzzy feelings. For him, it was like claiming his life back and taking it where he knew it was supposed to go. In those moments, Grissom spoke so freely about his profession Nick's mind was made. He was going to Las Vegas. Only, he didn't tell Grissom just yet, he still had some things he had to deal with first.

The Novak house hasn't changed much since Nick's last appearance on this doorstep. It wasn't much to behold back then and it wasn't much to behold now. The only difference Nick could see was a bit more wear. There were a few more chips in the paint and a few more panels of siding rested upon the ground. Other than that it was the same house he arrived at three years earlier.

"Dallas Police, open up," Nick pounded on the decrepit house. Novak's sister cracked the door open, but only enough to see her worn face. Emily Channing was her name, and she wanted nothing to do wit Nick the first time around, and she wanted nothing to do with Nick the second time around. She moved to close the door but Nick caught it just in time.

"I don't think so," he muttered and managed to open the door a bit further. "Nick Stokes, Dallas P.D. and this is Gil Grissom with the Las Vegas Crime Lab, do you mind if we ask you some questions regarding your brother Jake Novak."

Emily bit hard on her lip, not really wanting to talk to us about him. However, she did step out of her house and closed the door behind her.

"We're sorry to disturb you, but when's the last time you've talked with Jake?" Nick stated believing that it's best not to dance around the bush.

"I haven't talked to him in years," she answered quietly. Her eyes though didn't appear as sure as her words sounded though.

"Excuse me, ma'am, how'd this blood get here?" Gil snapped on a pair of latex gloves and gazed a bit more carefully at the stain in question. "Plain sight, right?" Nick nodded to Grissom's question and watched as he collected a sample of the blood.

"I, I don't know," Emily stated her voice shaking as she did. "Is there something going on with Jake?" She gulped nervously.

"WE think he kidnapped an eight-year-old little girl name Savannah Adler."

"That's awful," she covered her mouth with her hand. Was her shock genuine, or just an act, Nick didn't know. He did know what they found from the suspicious stain on the porch would tell him everything he needed to know about Emily Channing's emotional outburst.

"If you should see him, I want you to call us immediately," Gil stated in a commanding voice.

For a man of such wisdom, Gil Grissom certainly has a horrible way with people. The oddities about this man intrigued Nick and found himself curious to learn more about this fascinating individual.

"I think you should go now," Emily stated displeased with the situation her brother obviously left her in.

Something about the exchange bothered Nick. He reflected on the hostility of each word carefully. Grissom seemed more fascinated with the sample he collected than the questionable exchange of words.

"Emily's hiding something," Nick thought aloud.

"What makes you say that?" inquired Grissom still thinking heavily on something else.

"I know we burned her last time, but I just have this gut feeling like she's hiding something," Nick continued. "She knows more than what she's telling us."

"Hopefully, the sample I collected will give us something to work on."

"Yeah, maybe," Nick sighed, not certain that anything would come from the crimson stain.

--

The subject of Emily Channing didn't come up during their lunch. The two of them sat there eating their food. Occasionally, Nick would ask Grissom a question about the crime lab. With Grissom's answers and his own desire to change the direction of his life, Nick's mind was all but made up. Of course, he didn't tell Grissom this. He wouldn't until he knew he could get the help he needed and could get out of his job within a reasonable amount of time.

Just the thought of a new town to rebuild his life greatly appealed to him. A new job he could learn and challenge himself with also sung a sweet melody to his ears. Several times, he asked himself if he minded relocating to a new town with new people. Each time he arrived at the same answer.

Nick listened intently to Grissom talk about his work. He took special mental note when he mentioned the skills necessary to do the job correctly. Somewhere in his gut, he knew this was the job for him. It sounded to him as if he had all the right skills.

"Do you think I am capable?" He gulped nervously.

"I think you'd be a natural at it," Grissom smiled. "You have a way with people, plus you are detail orientated. Those qualities will serve you well in the criminology field."

With the word of approval, Nick's mind was made up. He was going to go to another town to work in a new field. His father wasn't going to be pleased about his decision. However, as far as Nick was concerned his father can go to hell if he likes. Too long has he taken a backseat to his father's desires. Too long, has he forsaken the little voice inside him whispering advice. It was time he stood up for himself and did what he wanted to do.

* * *

To Be Continued...


	4. A New Path

**The Once Future King  
Part II: The Hidden Truths  
**An **Evenstar** Story

--  
Chapter Four:  
A New Path

Nick weaved in and out of traffic. His lights flashing, his siren blaring as he sped down the freeway after his quarry. Just moments ago, a call came in announcing that Jake Novak has been spotted. The entire department piled into cars, sirens blared as they closed in on Jake's position.

Now, Nick stood with his gun drawn and his eye fixed upon Jake. He held the girl close to his leg. There was no question about her identity. She was Savannah Adler. She clung onto his leg, scared to death. Nick hated scaring the little girl by brandishing his gun, but this evil man needed to be brought to justice.

"Let go of the girl, Jake. We don't want to be forced to shoot you, come on, Jake you know I don't want to be forced to use this in front of the girl," Nick attempted to reason with the man. He knew it was almost pointless to argue with the deranged man. The girl cried harder against his leg and all Nick wanted to do was go over to her and take her away from that dangerous man.

"I want to go home," she cried softly. Jake hissed at her shutting her up.

"You know I can't let go of the girl," Jake called to the officers. "I'll, I'll just go back to jail if I, I do," he stammered.

"Jake, Jake, Jake," Nick stated. "You know we can't go around bending the rules for people who murdered innocent women. However, if you hand over the girl, I promise I will put in a good word for you."

"I didn't kill anybody," Jake continued to insist. "I… I tried to tell you that three years ago. Now, this is the only way," he cried.

Three years ago, Jake insisted that he never killed anyone, but the evidence was overwhelming against him. Sure, it was possible he was telling the truth. Back then, his story was nearly unbelievable. Yet no matter how hard they questioned him on it he never waivered and his ludicrously impossible story never changed.

"If you didn't kill her, why'd you jump bail, Jake?" Nick asked curiously. "Why kidnap a 7-year-old girl from her bedroom and bring her here, for what?"

"Freedom," Jake cried out. "I did it all so I could be free."

Out of all the years Nick's been on the force, he's never seen a man come completely apart before. He crumbled to the ground in heavy sobs. The gun dropped from his hands and little Savannah Adler ran into the waiting arms of Gilbert Grissom. He quickly carted her away allowing the Dallas Police Department to do their job.

Instantly Nick moved in on him kicking the gun out of his reach. He lowered his gun certain that he wouldn't need it now that this man was incapable of even saying a single thought aloud. Nick took the pained man in his arms and held him close, telling him it would all be all right, as another officer placed the cold steel cuffs on his wrists.

Back at the station, Nick took his statement. Hearing those pained words nearly tore him apart. It disgusted him to think about corruption in the legal system. Under the table wheeling's and dealings sickened him. He walked from the holding in a state of shock.

"Well, the blood from Emily's house is a match to Savannah, we have her as an accomplice," Grissom announced.

"That's great," Nick answered unenthused. "I have a judge who is dealing free passes to felons who complete certain tasks."

Grissom stared harshly at Nick making sure he heard him correctly. From the expression on Nick's face, he was certain he had heard him correctly and wished that he hadn't.

"Did he give names?" Grissom inquired.

"No, he said he didn't catch any of the names. He just knew they were judges. He did say that there was at least two, one here and one in Las Vegas. Grissom, I was reading his criminal record, two weeks ago, a Las Vegas State Trooper, Carl Travers pulled him over for a busted tail light. He ran his license found the warrants for his arrest and brought him in to custody. However, three hours later they suddenly found it necessary to release Jake. Twelve days pass and then he abducts Savannah Adler from her room. He just wanted to be free."

"What about that lady he killed?"

"I'm not certain he killed anyone, Griss. I mean, the more I read his case file, the more I realize how much stuff we probably missed. I'm not certain that he wasn't framed for Holly Granger's death."

Nick collapsed into his desk chair completely exasperated. His eyes were tired, his body and mind ached for relief, yet he was unable to find the comfort he's been craving. He didn't know what to do any more. Nick could deal with this case if it were only the sinister actions of one crazed individual. However, that's clearly not the case. It disturbed him to know, to think that the judges of this country were capable of doing such things. The news of corrupt judges troubled him greatly. Oh, Nick's been aware of awry judges since he was a tyke, but he never thought he'd uncover a potential series of corrupt judges.

What troubled Nick further was that Jake Novak sat in jail. In his mind, he knew that it was just a matter of time before the less than honourable Judge Anderson paid Novak a visit and that visit would undoubtedly shed light to his knowledge of his corruption. Time was against him in this case, and he knew the consequences of choosing the wrong side. Through the years, Nick's heard horror stories about corrupt judges killing anyone who oppose them. After all, it was no secret to Nick that power is what a judge sought after and power is what they got. Some, he knew would kill to keep that power, if they knew that would solve the threat.

He sat there on his desk with his face buried in his palm. "I don't know what to do," he sighed to Grissom. Grissom just sat there watching the pained man unable to help him through this quandary. "It won't take long for the judge to figure I know about him if Novak talks. Judge Anderson's a smart man. He's going to figure out that I know."

"Yes, that is quite the problem," agreed Grissom.

"If I stay silent, he'll leave me be, if I sing his sad little song of naughty doings, then it'll be my head. I don't know what to do," Nick continued to fret. Now more than ever Grissom's offer sounded very appealing to him. "You know what," his mind is finally made up. Grissom looked at him with a critical eye. "I'm going to take you up on that job offer."

"You're sure?" Grissom asked taken somewhat by surprise. He wasn't expecting Nick to take up the offer. However, the more he thought back on the last few days, he began to realize Nick's need to do so.

"Yeah," Nick pulled himself from the chair feeling more empowered than before. His mind was made up and he was now ready to wrap up the loose ends in this case. If the honourless judge pays him a visit, he has decided he won't talk until the evidence is secure.

There was still a lot that needed to be done with Emily Channing. The pair drove back out to her place with a warrant in hand. She stood irritably on her porch with Officer Meshner as Grissom escorted Nick inside showing him all the tools of the forensic trade. He taught Nick how to observe and let the evidence talk for the people. "Evidence never lies," was Grissom's mantra and Nick quickly remembered these three convenient words. Nick listened intently to everything Grissom said. The words of wisdom he spoke, the actions he took intrigued the young Dallas officer.

After two long hard weeks of working together, and the Adler case was finally wrapped up. Jake Novak sat in jail charged with kidnapping, and Judge Anderson sat in an inquest over his questionable activity over the past few months. To say the least, Nick was satisfied how things worked out. Yet, he still felt uncertain about moving to Las Vegas.

Deep down, he knew it was the right decision. He was just nervous about the backlash from his father. After all, it was his life and he could make his own decisions, his father be damned. Throughout his life, Nick's always been afraid of standing up to his father's will. He was a big man, who knew how to intimidate people and impose his will upon others. That was how he got the job at the Dallas Police Department. Now, he was ready to break away from the controlling force of his life. Ready to sail the winds and see where they take him. He was ready for this quantum leap and at this point, he didn't care how angry his father was at his decision, because he knew it was the right one for him.

For too long now, Nick's felt lost in the dark, upon these rough seas. For too long now, has he followed his father's wishes. It was time for a change. The first part of that change entailed getting himself fixed. Throughout the two weeks working with Grissom learning the tricks of the criminologist trade, he couldn't help but think about Singing Wolf's words. The only question left was if Nick was ready to face his deepest darkest demons.

Grissom was gone, the case was solved and Nick leaving him to stand at his bathroom mirror in the mornings after Gil's absence. Inside his reflection, Nick saw the helpless scared boy Singing Wolf had mentioned. The boy within begged to be freed from his imprisonment, and screamed at the top of his lungs. Nick felt that freeing this lost little boy might be the absolution he's been looking for.

"Nick honey, are you all right?" Adrianna stood at the doorway concerned about her soon to be ex.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." For the first time in a long time, he actually meant it. So many times, he gave that answer and it had been a lie. This morning was the first day of his life, when he'd take that first step that would lead him down the road to recovery.

He dressed in his officer blues and walked down to the station. His head was up as he walked through the double glass doors. Confidently, Nick stepped into Detective Stefan Coufal's office shutting the door softly behind him.

Without a word spoken he tossed his gun and badge onto Coufal's desk.

"You're quitting?" the Detective asked confused by Nick's sudden move.

"Yeah," Nick answered affirmatively. "I have some things I need to work out."

"If this is about Rezak's death, we can get you counselling or something."

"It's not about Rezak. He knew the risks as well as anyone. It was his time."

It hasn't been easy letting go of Brandon, but over the past months, he's accepted the fact that Brandon's time for this world is over. It wasn't an easy thing to accept, but if he wanted to move on it was something he had to do. Just like he had to quit the Dallas P.D. It was time for a change in his life.

"Are you really sure you want to quit the force?" Detective Coufal asked. He had to be sure that Nick was thinking this through. Nick was a fine officer with a good head upon his shoulders and he would hate to lose someone like him. "Are you certain you don't need more time to think about this?"

"Believe me, I've though about this plenty," Nick replied firmly.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that you'll be leaving us. You're a fine officer and a great person. I'm sure I speak for the whole department when I say we're going to miss you. But if you're sure, then I guess I have no choice but to accept that."

"Thank you for all you have done for me," and without another word, Nick turned around and left Stefan Coufal's office for the last time.

Oh, he wouldn't hear the end of it. Coufal was pretty much right in his father's pocket. At this very moment, Nick knew Coufal was on the phone to his beloved father telling him exactly what happened. That was one of many reasons he dreaded going home.

When he pulled up to his house, he could see his father's truck parked in the driveway. For a second he debated whether he wanted to get his pack or not. He didn't know how long it would take him to get to Singing Wolf's place. He really wasn't specific where the land of his people was.

Taking a deep breath, Nick parked his truck and walked slowly into the house, popping a few aspirins in his mouth bracing for the impending assault from his father. Just as he expected, his father met him in the living room, lounged back in the armchair. His eyes were like ice, and Nick knew then that his father was not pleased about his decision to quit the force.

"JUST WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING BOY!" His father shouted. The vein in his forehead had popped. He was beyond angry Cisco was downright pissed. Nick didn't understand why his father had to be like this. By Nick's reckoning, it was his life and he should be able to decide what is best for him.

Nick tried not to say a word. Saying anything at a time like this would only escalate his father's fury, and that was the last thing he wanted.

"Stefan Coufal called me today," Cisco stated much calmer, but the anger still remained.

"Oh, did he?" Nick stood at odds with his father. For the first time in his life, he was willing and ready to stand against the man with the iron will.

"Do you know what he told me?"

"I haven't a clue," Nick stated.

"He told me you quite the force today." Cisco's eyes blazed with anger as he waited for his youngest son to explain himself. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself, boy?"

"I'm not a child any more dad. I can fucking decide what I want to do with my life. I don't have to do what you want me to," Nick retorted venomously.

"Like hell you do," his father raged onward. Never before had Nick ever seen his father this angry. Sure, the man's been angry plenty of times. However, to this day he's never seen this kind of anger from the man.

"I'm twenty-three years old, dad. I think I'm old enough to run my own life."

"Apparently not," Cisco spat the cruel words in his son's face.

"You know what, I don't need you to run my life. I don't care what you say, I can run my life the way I see fit. I don't see fit to run it around your wishes," Nick turned sharply on his heel and picked up his daypack stuffed with snack food galore. He turned from his fuming father and walked briskly for the out. Before he reached the back door, he heard his father exclaim, "Yeah, I've seen how well you've done for yourself."

"Fuck off!" he cursed his father and mounted the stead he readied that morning. His father stood at the door and watched as his son rode off into the distance.

* * *

To Be Continued...


	5. Finding Singing Wolf

**The once Future King**

**Part Two: Hidden Truths**

Disclaimer: I do not Own any Characters associated with CSI

Chapter Five:  
Finding Singing Wolf

Nick stormed off in a blaze of glory, his head held high as he urged his faithful stead onward. His rage could have carried him for miles. However, his stead could not keep up with the brisk pace Nick set. If the youngest Stokes had his way, he'd keep going for a few more miles, but the heavy breathing of the beast below him forced him to slow his speed and think about what exactly he was doing.

Part of him questioned if he really was doing the right thing. Deep down, he knew he was. It was his life, his decision and he's made it now he has to live by it. Regardless of what his dearest daddy thought of him right now, he knew he could not back down.

Unable to turn around, Nick forged onward into the rugged Texas landscape. Day turned to dusk by the time he reached the banks of the Brazos River. The river is shallow only a few feet deep at its deepest points. Scattered upon the riverbed rested the remains of several Tyrannosaurus Rex footprints sunk into the limestone. Careful to avoid the four-inch depressions Nick rode his horse slowly through the shallow waters careful not to disturb the surroundings.

As Nick rode further into the Texas wilderness, he felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulders. The sight of the shrubby trees lining the banks and the sweet smell of the sage lingering in the air soothed his frazzled nerves. His spirit felt liberated the further he went into the Texas countryside.

Day turned to dusk was now night and still Nick rode on under the light from the waning moon. The locusts grew quiet and the Great Horned Owls' song grew loud as the young man continued down the river. Soon, even the call of the owls grew dim as dawn approached and a new light started a new day. It might as well be the first day of the rest of his young life. His heart refreshed and his mind cleared, ready for the new path that he's to tread.

It turned out to be a beautiful day. The songbirds sang their songs, fluffy clouds drifted across the sky. A mild breeze rustled the leaves freshly fallen to the ground on this beautiful fall day. His eyes scanned his surroundings continuously taking the beautiful sights in. It's been a long time since he was able to enjoy the world as God intended him to. He simply hadn't had the time to stop and smell the roses.

The screech of the Golden Eagle drew his brown eyes skyward as the magnificent bird gracefully glided across the sky. Without rhyme or reason, Nick pulled his horse from the shallow waters and followed the golden brown predator through the dense thicket of trees to a hill where trees refused to grow. Atop stood a man with long wild hair, decorated with a warrior's headdress, and his body clad in skins. He stood majestically over the hill calling to the flying eagle landing upon his arm with such grace.

His boots hit the ground with a soft thud as he dismounted his weary stead. With the reins in hand, he slowly walked up to the man who stood there with the eagle preening itself upon his arm.

"My dreams have been lonely without your spirit to keep them company," Singing Wolf said choosing to gaze off into the distance. "You seem more at ease with yourself than you were at our previous meeting," the native turned to face the broken man standing before him. "I take it you have reached an understanding."

"I have," Nick answered this man. "You said you would be able to help me?"

"Aye," the native said dropping his arm sending the massive bird skyward. "Help you find your way, my lost friend."

"Help me," he pleaded. In all his life, with all his being he's never wanted anything more. Up until this point, he never knew how bad his suffering really was. His brown eyes begged Singing Wolf for any assistance he could offer and was gleeful when this man reciprocated his desires.

"What are your dreams about?" he asked quietly looking toward the sky again.

Nick thought on the question and hard unable to think of an answer for that. Sometimes, he could recall dreaming about Brandon, but recently those dreams have faded to be replaced by dreams he couldn't discern.

"I don't remember," he answered honestly. Now that the dreams of Brandon faded from his mind, the dreams about this mystery man continued to plague him again, making him sick unable to function. What the dreams were about, he couldn't tell you. Only that they were tormenting to his soul.

"Shame."

"You pity me?" Nick's vision turned to the eagle soaring gracefully upon the wind.

"I do not pity you, my wayward friend, for I too was once lost unable to find my way. There is no shame for those who are not able to recall their dreams. A shame, because you are unable to listen to your spirit's voice. It calls to you, but its voice is drowned out."

"Excuse me?"

"Our spirit speaks to us through our dreams. Dreams are their vice, their only method it has to communicate with us in a way, which we can understand."

Nick shrugged uncertain of what to think about Singing Wolf's words. To his more rational side, this man spoke nothing but nonsensical things. However, when he asked the troubled man to follow him, Nick followed with little question.

Singing wolf led them deeper into the wild, leaving the river far behind. Where the native took him, Nick knew not where of, but he knew it was in his best interests to follow the man. Still, a question nagged him. It wasn't an important question, more of a curiosity than anything.

"If you don't mind my asking, how did you get the name Singing Wolf?"

"How'd you get the name Nicholas?" Singing Wolf quickly replied. "We get our names because that is the name that called to our mother at the time we came to this world. I am Singing Wolf, because a wolf sang its song on the night of my birth and for no other reason. I am sure your mother picked an honourable name for you. It fits you well," Singing Wolf smirked and continued to lead the way through the dense words.

"It does?" Nick asked curious to know how his name fit him well.

Nick followed Singing Wolf down the narrow path to the unknown destination. They talked about precious little as they travelled through the dense woods. Into the afternoon they walked the path deeper and deeper into the Piny Woods until they came across a small village.

The sight left Nick awestruck. At least a dozen handcrafted houses tucked in amongst the dense woods. The place was quiet, but bustling with energy that Nick had never seen before. Every person within this encampment had a job to perform. Nick watched as the women sewed the skins into clothing, and the men restocked their quiver of arrows. When Singing Wolf had mentioned the home of his ancestors there was pride in his eyes and now Nick finally understood why. Singing Wolf had a reason to be proud of his home. After all, he had invested so much into it.

Seeing their home was almost a therapeutic experience for Nick. As though this place contained some magic that Nick could only hope to understand and deeply wanted to experience. He glanced to his guide leading him now away from the camp leaving Nick to wonder where they were headed.

"Where will we be staying?" he asked his guide.

"Out in the wild," Singing Wolf answered. It wasn't the answer Nick wanted to hear, but he didn't argue or complain. He only accepted this turn of events. "One can only find themselves once they are truly lost," Singing Wolf added for clarification. The path brought Nick to a clearing in the woods where Singing Wolf's people ploughed the ground with oxen and tended their crops.

"Everything we have here, we have worked hard for." Singing Wolf beamed upon the mastery of his people's work. "From here, we ride," he pulled his fingers to his lips and whistled loudly. A horse sounded in the distance and galloped through the clearing toward the man who he belonged.

Nick mounted his stead, and followed Singing Wolf in a hasty gallop. They ran through the woods, and passed flooded creeks as they continued to travel deeper and deeper to unknown parts. The sun disappeared beyond the horizon and darkness too command over the landscape. The stars glistened brightly overhead when the two finally stopped upon a hilltop with a clear view of the stars above. Their horses tied, Singing Wolf pointed out the constellations sharing his people's tales behind them. Nick listened to the stories with a newfound appreciation for this man.

During this explanation, Nick's mind wandered back to a time he used to do this frequently. Back to the days when he was a child looking up at the universe and feeling as though nothing could touch him. Nothing could ever come close to harming him. Several of the memories he recollected he distinctly remembered being in the company of someone he loved. Who was the person who sat beside him? His face was obscure to him and he tried to figure it out.

A deep throbbing headache surfaced from within at the very thought of this mystery man. 'Who was he?' Nick continued to wonder and the headache worsened. The throbbing increased, sweat droplets formed upon his brow. His entire body tensed until it was pure agony to take the simplest of breaths. He tried to ignore his urge to scream whenever the pain shot through his body. No matter how hard he resisted, the screams of pain still left his body.

Singing Wolf silently watched as Nick went through his latest episode. Sadness filled his eyes when he saw the war raging inside him first hand. More than anything, he wanted to help this man find his much-needed peace. He only wished he could help him, but understood that task was ultimately up to Nick.

The night passed without ease for Nick. His dreams tormented him and he tossed and turned calling that mysterious man by name. When his eyes finally opened, the sun had already broke over the horizon and Singing Wolf was nowhere to be seen.

"Singing Wolf?" he called to his companion.

The morning was beautiful and sunny, but crisp for the late summer's day. Uncertain where Singing Wolf disappeared to and unable to track him, Nick decided it would be smart to stay close to the still-smouldering fire. He stoked the nearly dead flames bringing it back to blames and waited for his lost companion to return.

"Sleep well?" Singing Wolf startled Nick from behind.

"Not really."

"When's the last time you've had a good night's sleep?"

Nick sat there dumbfounded thinking upon the question, but the answer was quite easy to arrive at. "I can't remember," he answered honestly. "It seems like I've just gotten used to not sleeping well."

"Then I believe it wise to start this journey as soon as we can, right after we hunt for breakfast," Singing Wolf smirked.

Breakfast sounded wonderful. His stomach growled in hunger and he eagerly added another log to the fire in anticipation. Then Singing Wolf's words crashed into him and he realized they had absolutely no food. "Hunting?" he gulped nervously. As a boy, Nick frequently went on hunting trips with his father and brother. However, somewhere in his early teens he stopped for some reason. He couldn't remember exactly why, but remembered it had something to do with what he saw as a boy.

"Yes, you will be hunting for our breakfast," Singing Wolf added much to Nick's dismay.

"Me?" he choked feeling a bit more uncertain about his decision to take up with Singing Wolf. If he had any idea they were going on a hunting trip, he would have thought twice about going at all. He sat there winded unable to move a single muscle. Memories struck him hard and he could recall his last hunting trip. Three of them were walking through the small thicket of trees searching for their doe. James laughed as the small group pressed forward. James saw the Doe wedged between two trees. Nick could remember his friend crying out as James drew the string back to end the doe's existence. That day his friend was traumatized and he hasn't been hunting since.

Since he couldn't see a way out of this expedition, he sighed and conceded to the hunting trip. After all, if this was what would cure him, he was all for it.

"I don't see any weapon," he noted.

Singing Wolf expected Nick to take note and his smile grew wider. "Oh, that's because you'll be making your own weapon. After all, a hunt is only honourable if a person has invested in the kill." Singing Wolf hoisted a small knapsack over his shoulder. "You coming or not?"

He wanted to say, 'or not,' but at this point it was too late to turn back. He wanted to find himself and if this little adventure would do the trick, he was for it.

"Yeah," he stood from his spot ready to start down this road. He wasn't sure he was ready for what lie at the end of this road he only knew it was time to walk down this rugged trail.

The native started down the path that would lead to Nick's salvation. The young man sighed and followed him reluctantly into the woods. Scattered along the forest floor rested the items needed for them to forge their weapons. They collected flint rocks, lengthy sticks and dried grasses from the clearing. All the while, they spun grass into rope and pounded the flint rocks into sharpened arrowheads, Nick's stomach rumbled in hunger. He tried to push his aching need aside, but his hunger would not be ignored.

They finished the weapons and not a moment too soon as far as Nick was concerned. He wasn't sure he could make it one more minute without something in his empty stomach. The men walked silently in the woods with Nick brandishing the spear over his shoulder. A buck frolicked past his sight and excitement bubbled within the broken man. His eyes zeroed in on the unsuspecting prey as he closed the distance. Singing Wolf held back allowing Nick the opportunity to kill the buck.

Nick drew closer, his spear up and ready, all he was waiting for was the perfect moment to strike. When it came, he threw the spear through the air, and cringed when that lopsided spear zoomed right past his prey landing on the ground behind it with a soft thud. It wasn't a loud sound, but it was enough to alert the buck sending him bounding away through the woods.

"Damn it!" Nick shouted in frustration. Falling to his knees, he placed his hands over his rumbling stomach. He really wanted to hit that buck. He really wanted to eat, and now he has neither.

"Come," Singing Wolf offered his hand and took Nick back out to the meadow. Once again, Singing Wolf taught Nick how to throw the spear properly through the air. He practiced and practiced throwing that spear into the molehill. He threw it and threw it perfecting his technique.

The sun sank lower in the sky by the time Nick was ready to try this venture out again, for what was supposed to be breakfast and now is dinner.

Singing Wolf fell back as Nick stalked his quarry. His prey in sights he cocked his arm back and let the spear fly. It flew perfectly and right on target. Nick's eyes swelled with pride as he speared his first buck. A smile spread over his face as he went to the wounded animal and finished it off with one quick jab to the heart.

"I did it," he exclaimed as jubilant as any five-year-old would be upon their birthday. Nick couldn't really explain the pride and confidence he felt. The feelings within him had nothing to do with the fact he slaughtered a beautiful animal, but because he accomplished something from his own hard work. That accomplishment seemed to have opened Nick up to bigger and better possibilities.

Now, he faced new challenges. His buck rested lifeless on the ground and he was much too big for him to take to the camp himself. He would call out for Singing Wolf's help, but the man appeared to be occupied with something else at the moment, leaving him to deal with this problem himself. If that wasn't enough the light of day was quickly fading into night. Time of the essence, he took his spear and managed to use the parts to tie up his stout kill and haul it back to camp.

It was slow going, moving the massive deer to the campsite. When he arrived, he found Singing Wolf sitting upon a rock prodding the now-massive fire with a lengthy stick. Unable to move a step further, Nick dropped the pole, beast attached and collapsed next to Singing Wolf enjoying the subtle glow of the fire.

"I don't think I will ever be able to move again," Nick gripped rubbing his sore muscles.

"Yet, there is still so much work that needs to be done," Singing Wolf mentioned nodding toward the slain buck. Nick sighed audibly wishing that the job was done. Before he could move a muscle though, Singing Wolf took a small amount of pity upon the weary hunter and tossed him a double handled curved knife to skin the freshly killed buck.

Skinning the buck was hard tedious work that kept Nick busy until the wee hours of the morning. His stomach rumbled loudly as he meticulously worked on the deer's hide. Nick's eyes grew heavy as he finished skinning the deer as the sun began to lighten the night sky. By the time the beauty from the sunrise faded, all Nick wanted to do was sooth the hungry ache that rumbled in his stomach before collapsing upon the ground to enjoy slumber he has been denied.

Singing Wolf had other plans for the weary man though. With one last knot tying the deer firmly to the pole, the two men heaved the deer into place over the fire, before allowing Nick to get some much-needed rest. He assured the weary man, that everything will be taken care of and he needn't worry about anything for now.

Nick closed his weary eyes and allowed sleep to overtake him. As he rotated the deer over the flames, Singing Wolf looked toward the sleeping man to see him sleeping in peace. The ends of his mouth curled into a smile to see him sleeping so calmly and knowing his plan worked out perfectly. Nick was too exhausted to let his turbulent dreams interfere with his body's need for regeneration and fell into a dreamless slumber.

Sing Wolf watched as the young man slept well into the afternoon. He wasn't surprised by the length the tired man slept seeing how he's had precious little in such a long time. If anything could be said about, Nick's disturbed dreams have been any judge on the quality of sleep he's gotten.

The sun began to lower in the sky as Nick began to stir from his slumber. His brown eyes cracked open as the fumes from the roasting deer invade his olfactory.

"Mmm, smells good," he rubbed his eyes and pulled himself from the grassy hill.

"It's just about done," Singing Wolf answered.

"Man, I'm starving," he clinched his rapidly rumbling stomach.

"Wouldn't doubt you are," the native smiled. "If you'll help me move this thing away from the flames, we'll let it cool and get you all fed up."

With the promise of much needed food, Nick eagerly, he took one of the A-frames holding the slaughtered deer over the fire and moved it about five feet away.

Lounged back against the tree, Nick groaned from the pressure of his now full belly. Again, he wondered why he ate so much and attributed it to the fact he went an entire day without even a crumb. All Nick wanted to do was sit and digest, however Singing Wolf had other plans.

"Come," he instructed taking Nick by the hand and pulling him down the narrow path through the tightly packed thicket of trees.

They walked over the soft rolling hills through the winding path through the densely packed grove. Nick followed closely behind the native careful not to lose him in the thick woods. With every uphill stride they took, Nick kept up until at last they reached the crest of the massive hill. Unlike the other hills in the area covered completely with trees. This hilltop had been completely void of all trees allowing Nick to see for miles in all directions.

"Is this it?" Nick choked out looking around the place.

"Yeah," the man answered a bit short of breath from his massive climb. "Nick, you know I cannot help your tattered soul."

It took mere moments for Nick to realize what Singing Wolf said. Anger bubbled under his skin as he focused his heated glare toward the man who promised to help him.

"Then why did I waste all my fucking time coming here if you cannot or will not help me?" Nick retorted angrily.

"I do not have all the answers you seek, my friend," he answered just as calmly not phased by Nick's anger. "But I believe that you do."

Nick's eyes bore into the native angered to hear such an absurd theory.

"I," he shook his head still unable to believe it. "I don't follow."

"Your spirit has visited my dreams on several occasions," Singing Wolf stated. Ever since Singing Wolf appeared at his bedside, Nick wondered about his statement. He didn't seem to be the type to make up such outlandish lies about stuff.

"But why?" Nick choked out still uncertain if he truly believed this man's words.

"A spirit seeks any who will listen. Your's desperately wants to communicate with you, but is unable for some unknown reason," Singing Wolf tried to explain. "Perhaps you have a bad memory your conscious mind has suppressed and is unable to allow to surface. Who knows why our mind shuts out our spirits voice. However, I do know you for some unknown reason are either choosing not to listen to your spirit or are unable."

"How's sitting on this hill going to help me?" inquired Nick looking around sceptically. It was almost needless to say that Nick was a little unsure about Singing Wolf's plan actually working to bring tranquillity back into his life. Although, he desperately craved the day he was at peace with himself.

"You will go on a spirit quest to seek your spirit guide."

"My spirit guide?" Nick swallowed hard unable to believe what he was hearing. If he sounded a bit apprehensive over the idea of a spirit guide, it was only because he doubted the existence of such things as spirit guides.

"A visual representation of your spirit, or soul," Singing Wolf clarified.

"And then?"

"Well, that is between you and your guide. No one else is privileged to that information. What is said there should always remain with yourself unless it has given you permission to speak about it to someone else. Usually, the information there is only for your ears and no one else. You can usually wake from your meditations at any time if you wish."

Deciding to put his doubts aside, Nick sat upon an elevated rock structure giving him a clear view of the surrounding landscape. "What do I need to do?" Nick asked nervously.

"Close your eyes, and feel the cool breeze upon your face. Hear the birds sing their song in the distance. Clear your head of useless thoughts and open your mind to the surroundings. Hear the song of Earth. Can you feel it?"

"I can," Nick replied letting the sensations wash over him like a cleansing rain. Singing Wolf began to sing in his native tongue and Nick began to feel an inner peace take over him as though pulling him through time and space.

Faster and faster he seemed to reach his destination, until the chirps of the birds, and the sounds of Singing Wolf's earthy voice faded into black…

The rumble of Thunder sounded in the dark and lightning flashed through the angry skies. His brown eyes swept over the barren landscape. Another crack of thunder sounded and the first drops of rain fell from the angry skies. Faster and faster did the droplets fall from the sky until the pitter-patter of the droplets increased into a solid hum as the rain quickened into a downpour.

Lightning illuminated the soft rolling hills that stretched on as far as his eye could see. The wind wisped through the long blades of grass turning them into an endless ocean of waves in the torrential storm.

Soaked to the bone, standing in the elements his mind wandered to several conclusions as he continued to hear the soft natural tunes of Singing Wolf's song.

"My name is Nick stokes," he called out to the raging storm. "I've come to speak with my soul."

The wind gusted harder against his face as the thunder rumbled angrily above his head. He did not back down, or pull away. If this was what he truly needed he needed to see this through. Let the storm soak him to the bone, put on its lightshow and try to blow him to kingdom come.

"I must speak to my soul," he demanded against the deafening wind drowning out his very voice. "I wish to find internal peace against his raging storm."

"Tranquillity will only come to those who are willing," a voice sounded in the storm. Nick couldn't see anything in the darkened landscape, but knew he must be speaking to his spirit guide. After all, that's who he set out to look for.

"Where are you? I can't see you?" Nick cried out in the storm bracing himself under the feeble oak tree.

"Let go of your doubts and trust in yourself and the path will be shown," the voice replied.

"Are you my soul?"

"Only those who trust themselves can see the way."

"I cannot see the path. Can you show me the path?" The helpless man stated against the power of the storm.

"Only those who trust themselves can see the way," repeated the voice.

"I do not understand."

"We must come to an understanding in our own time and in our own ways."

"I must know the truth."

"Only those who are honest with themselves can pass through the gates of knowledge."

"Can you show me the way?"

"Only those willing to see a task to the end will get their reward."

Nick hadn't understood the statements his voice replied to him. He repeated them over in his head and realized how much he had doubted himself. It was no wonder he had lost touch with himself. He didn't trust himself enough to hear what must be heard. He had been so full of self-doubt. He was amazed that he could even function on a day-to-day basis.

"What must I do to show prove my intentions to you?" Nick asked his spirit guide.

"There are three challenges you must meet: loyalty, strength, and commitment. If you complete these challenges you will have earned your rights to see me."

"Understood."

To Be Continued...


	6. Nick's Challenges

**The once Future King**

**Part Two: Hidden Truths**

Chapter Six:  
Nick's Challenges

Nick pushed his fallen spectacles up the bridge of his nose. The mood was grim as he wrote fellow diplomat, Benjamin Franklin of his failed attempt to get the British Parliament to hear reason. They wouldn't even listen to him though, and he had no idea on what other choice he had.

Franklin had been wrong when he said war could be avoided by diplomacy. Diplomacy was useless when people refuse to hear it. He sat in that cold room and wrote to Franklin telling him that it was a fruitless endeavour. It has been four months in failure and he was going home to his wife and child.

The ship rocked against the rough waters. He sat alone deep in thought. It was still possible to avoid going to war with the world's strongest naval force. He wanted to believe that war was avoidable. Deep inside his gut though, he knew it was unavoidable. The differences between the colonies and Britain were irreconcilable.

His mood was grim when the ship entered Boston Harbour. He had wanted to bring back pleasant news from Britain, but at the moment he would settle for being home.

He stood at his front door. Nick had wanted to be the hero that saved the colonies from the brink of war, but instead he stood there a failure. Sometimes he thought he should've tried harder. He felt maybe he had left something on the table that he could've gotten them to listen if he had just stayed longer tried harder and forced them to listen.

A cold wind blew the fallen leaves across the ground. The surreal scene seemed to mirror his inner most feelings. He gathered his thoughts, and walked into his house as the master of his domain.

"Have a good trip," Anna, his beautiful wife wrapped her arms around her husband.

"It would've been better with you," he kissed her gently upon the lips.

"Elizabeth missed you."

He couldn't tell her the truth. She wouldn't want to know that he failed at the Parliament. They wouldn't even hear the case he made. He was torn between his own moral code of conduct, and his dedication to his wife and child.

"Were you successful?" She nuzzled his neck.

"The parliament won't listen to reason. It was their war…"

"Our war," Anna was quick to remind him.

"It had nothing to do with us Anna, and they shoved the cost of it straight to us. The people of this colony work hard for what they get and end up sending half their earnings to the British…"

"I would prefer to spend more in taxes if it meant peace between the two of us." She cried.

"I don't think peace is possible any more." Nick broke away from her loving arms. It wasn't what she wanted to hear.

"Then they will squash this petty rebellion and life will continue as normal."

"The British forces have weakened of late. They suffered a large loss with their war with France. Militias are forming across the countryside. I'm not sure the British can beat them this time."

"Ben Franklin said that diplomacy can free us."

"Even Ben thinks diplomacy in this matter is becoming impossible."

"They're civilized men, surely they can see reason."

"Have you heard nothing that I've just said? They won't even listen to reason, Anna. I stood up there I tried to get them to hear me. They won't even listen. All they want is to kill off this stupid rebellion."

She walked over to her husband and placed her delicate hand over his shoulder.

"Franklin's gone to the French to see if they will listen to reason."

"The French, Nicholas?"

"If this comes to arms, we're going to need allies. The British are weakened, but they're still the best naval fleet in the world."

"And what happens when it comes to that? Where will we be?" Tears streamed down her face. Nick wanted to soothe them away, but frankly, he wasn't concerned with the outcome for the British Empire. For all he was concerned they can keep their money.

"Whatever will," Nick answered solemnly.

"If they go to arms, will we betray our own family?" Anna cried out.

This left Nick faced with a gargantuan quandary. He loved his family more than anything in the world. Already he knew they were going to be loyalists to Britain. Nick didn't blame Anna for where she placed her allegiances. All of her family lives near York. They had plans on relocating the family as soon as Nick got the money. Then all the trouble began and in all the uncertainty, they decided it would be best to wait.

The decision on where to place his allegiances weren't as simple as they were for Anna. He would love to just side with the British on this one, but everything about it just felt wrong to him. He no longer believed in what they stood for and everything that had happened to him the four months he spent trying to convince them, only drove that fact deeper.

If it did come down to revolution, Nick wasn't sure which side of the fence he was going to fall.

The months passed and the tensions continued to mount. All diplomacy failed in London, and all the efforts now were concentrated solely on persuading the French to rise up against the British.

Nick watched as the violence mounted in the streets. The colonial government were kidding themselves by declaring they were not at open war. Bullets flew through the streets and all the while, Nick felt he should be out there joining the rebels.

"Nicholas," Anna called from the bedroom. He had been sitting at the window watching the rebellion take place.

"Go back to bed Anna." Nick commanded.

Inside his head, a rebellion of his own took place. Everything in his gut screamed at him not to return to Britain with Anna. They had already made the arrangements, but Nick believed in what the rebels were fighting for.

Regardless of what he believed, he found himself standing at the harbour looking at the ship to take him across the ocean. He loved his wife, and child, but York wasn't his home.

He watched as the St. Augustine docked and he knew it was a ship that was taking him back to a world of hypocrites.

"You're not having doubts about our voyage are you?" Anna asked Nick noticing the uncertainty on his face.

"I keep thinking I am making a horrible mistake." Nick voiced his honest opinion.

"What do you mean? York is our home. Our entire family is there."

"I'm not sure it is my home any more." Nick sighed not knowing what to do. He loved his wife, but he didn't believe in what his homeland stood for. He looked around at the docks and saw his countrymen.

"It could be," she whispered sweetly.

"I don't think it will ever be home to me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I've made my decision. I'm not going with you."

"We've discussed this Nicholas. We were to go to Britain and escape this horrible rebellion."

"And arrive to what? The oppression we escaped? To go back to a place that offers us no future…"

"You're wrong, Britain, is where we have a future. Nick, you know the British won't stop until this rebellion is squashed and the people responsible hung for treason. Do you really want to be here when that happens?"

Nick thought about it for about two moments, and it didn't even faze him.

"These people, they have something to fight for. They are fighting for a cause greater than their own. They are fighting for freedom to govern their own people in the way they see fit. What do the British know of the colonial problems? They don't suffer what we suffer. They sit in their grand castles and fortresses while we have nothing. We came here to escape their oppressive nature, not to be strangled by undo taxation for a war we didn't even fight. The rebellion represents a stand to the tyranny of Britain. And when that tyranny made its presence known here you just run to it as if a moth to a flame?"

"Nicholas, what else can we do? The militia and the Colonial Army do not have the strength to fight against the Royal Navy."

"Perhaps with France's help we will find victory. It matters not, though. I would rather die for something I believe in and face the gallows, than to wither away to old age clad in chains and deep in regret."

That was Nick's final answer and left Anna standing there at the docks. His only prayer for survival was that Benjamin Franklin was having more success in persuading the French than he had convincing the British.

He returned to the house and went straight to his study. The hour was late, and there was business to tend to. Nick had several business ventures he felt he must either capitalize on now, or discontinue business with. During these uncertain times, it was best to fraternize with as few people as absolutely necessary.

Nick couldn't remember the last time he heard the house so quiet. It was almost eerily quiet. The silence, near deafening, but Nick didn't mind. This was probably the quiet before the storm and he intended to enjoy the tranquillity.

It was short lived though. Suitors were knocking on his door. He didn't anticipate any visitors. Answering the door and his nerves immediately tensed. A well-dressed British general stood there, with a small posse behind him.

"By order of King George, this residence will be used to quarter the British soldiers. You have one hour to prepare your quarters for your guests."

"Understood." He watched from the nearby window as the general turned on his heel and left. It didn't matter to Nick if the British used his home as their barracks. He was about to leave anyways and join the Continental Army.

He took the time, and gathered all the manageable metal pieces scattered across his house and placed them in the pocket he kept around his waist. It wasn't the farewell he anticipated. Then again, he wasn't sure what he thought it was going to be like. He saddled his horse and gave one last look towards the house. One swift kick to the horse and he was gone.

--

The storm continued to rage on. Nick looked around the place shrouded in darkness. He stood there unprotected in the torrential downpour getting soaked to the bone. He didn't care.

"Why'd you pull me from my challenge?" He shouted at his spirit guide.

"I had to know something." The voice answered.

"What would you like to know?"

"Why did you stay? Why didn't you follow your love to Britain?"

It was a fair question. Nick thought about it for a second. "It seemed like the right thing to do." He answered.

"But why did you decide to forsake those who mean the most to you?"

"Because some things are worth giving up in order to achieve the greater good."

"And what is the greater good?" his guide hummed.

"I don't know." Nick answered honestly.

"It depends on what you want. On the situation that has been handed to you. Your parents have handed you a set of cards and one day you might have to face them. Facing them might mean losing their support. It is a fight that must take place and it is yours to decide how it will be."

"What did they do to me?"

"I am not at liberty to say until you complete your challenge. I wanted to let you know, there are some things that are worth sacrificing your loved ones for. Which loved one you sacrifice will be up to you. But one of them will have to be sacrificed for your soul to become whole again."

Nick nodded and thought about that for a moment. He really didn't like the sounds of that, but he knew he didn't have to worry about that now. Right now, he had to focus on passing the challenge set before him.

--

The sound of the artillery fire was deafening. Men were running for their lives and all Nick could do was stand there and watch. Canon's discharged in a plume of smoke. Muskets fired, at the retreating men.

He should've run, but he didn't. He couldn't He was still in shock from the sight of the Royal Navy obliterating their weak defences. The sight was nearly demoralizing to him. These men blasting away at each other could've easily been family. And all because one group wanted the freedom to govern themselves and the other was too ignorant to hear it. It was a crying shame it had to come down to this.

The only thought that went through Nick's head, was that it was all a waste of time. The Parliament didn't want to hear the Colonies' plea. They wanted this war to pound them back into servitude. It infuriated Nick to think he once considered himself to be British. It sickened him to his stomach the way he thought they were once dignified, or worse that Nick ever thought they could be dignified.

He never saw the mortar hit the ground, or the person who pummelled him out of the way. The explosion was massive and shrapnel shot out at all directions. Nick struggled against the body holding him down. When he'd opened his eyes, he expected to find a British naval officer pinning him down. To his surprise, it was a young man from the local militia.

"Thanks, I owe you one." Nick took the extended hand to the young man. "My name is Nick."

"Greg." The young man introduced. Nick would've loved to meet him under better circumstances. However, that was out of his control. "We better get out of here, before those Brits get any more destructive ideas for us."

The two of them retreated running for their lives with the British dragoons following close behind.

"We're never going to make it." Nick stated to his young comrade in arms.

"Follow me." Greg clutched Nick's uniform with one strong grasp and pulled him forcibly into a thicket of trees. From the underbrush, they watched as the dragoons rode on to the encampment.

Greg seemed familiar to Nick. The young man was a lanky man, tall and slender. His face was like porcelain pure and innocent. Nick observed him quietly wondering if what he thought he saw was true. Under the weatherworn coat he wore, there was a distinctive shade of red. It hadn't been Nick's imagination at all. He did see a British officer ambush him.

"Whose side are you playing on?" Nick folded his arms and distanced himself from the young man. Tension spread through his body. Nick had heard what the British do to their traitors and wondered if he was now a prisoner of war.

Greg turned to face him. His eyes were big and brown, almost dog like. They had an appearance of trust and understanding.

"One does not often question the integrity of those who've saved their life." Greg placed his musket on the ground in good faith.

"Why would a British officer save a traitor such as myself?" Nick questioned.

"I have my reasons." Greg wasn't sure he could trust this man yet. He was playing a fine game and one false move could cost him everything he had worked for. He wasn't stupid though. It wasn't out of compassion he rescued Nick from that unexploded mortar. Greg needed someone to deliver a message for him. In his position, it wouldn't be wise to ride into the enemy's encampment seeking their General.

"What do you want from me?"

"What is you life worth, Nick?" Greg leaned back on the tree with his arms folded over his chest.

"I am uncertain by what you mean."

"I've taken great risk in saving your life. It must be worth something."

"Whatever you want as your reward, take it and be done." Nick raised the musket to the firing position.

"Are you going to shoot me? I believe you only have one shot. Believe me when I say it will take more than that to stop me."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to deliver a message for me."

"It must be a pretty important message to risk being killed over."

"If it weren't important, I wouldn't have risked leaving my post at all." Greg fidgeted uncomfortably. "Fact of the matter, the Continental Army has been handed a rather unique situation if they can capitalize on it."

"How do I know you aren't sending us into a trap? You are a British officer."

"You could shoot me right here and not find out." It was a tempting offer for Nick. But there was something about him that told Nick to trust him. Maybe it was those deep brown eyes. "What do you say? Are you going to shoot me, or pass on a message to General Washington?"

Nick thought about it for a moment. It wouldn't hurt to pass on the message. The news he would give could be vital to the war efforts. It wasn't as if they were winning battles.

"All right, I'm listening."

"The Hessians have stopped for the winter at Trenton. The conditions have become unfavourable and Rall refuses to push them further in the sleet and snow. He believes the Continental Army to be disillusioned and confused and in no position for an attack. The Hessians are vulnerable at Trenton. He has few men and little back up. They were supposed to build redoubts at the head of the two main streets. But I have it in good faith to know, the men refused preferring the bayonets. If Washington is to capitalize on this unique turn of events he will have to move quickly if he's to take advantage of the situation."

"Who do I say the message is from?"

"John Honeyman, he'll know who he is. Give him my regards. I hope to rendezvous with him soon."

Nick nodded his head and watched as Greg holstered the musket, gave him a firm nod, and disappeared deeper into the thicket of trees.

The dragoons moved swiftly, but less than stealthy. They were easy to track down. Unfortunately, when Nick finally caught up with them, they were busy fending off the locals of a town. Nick smiled inwardly. It wasn't that he believed he was alone in the fight, but sometimes he wondered if anyone would have the guts to take on such a formidable enemy.

He passed the town with little trouble and continued tracking Washington's regiment. The unit was swifter than he had thought they were. While with them, he believed them to travel slowly. He found dropped bridges and cut timber a sure sign they had been there. The river was formidable with swollen rushing water drifting outward to sea. It would've taken a new bridge to cross the raging river. Perhaps he had underestimated his own team.

There was no way around it. If Nick wanted to go forward, he had to go down stream and hope for another bridge. He didn't want to waste the time, but to cross at this point would end all possibilities of success. He felt as though the entire war rested on him giving Washington Honeyman's message.

Delayed, Nick found their encampment. They had left only moments before he arrived. It was certain now that he was closing in on his regiment. Most of the troops had left, but one remained.

It was clear he was deserting the unit. The man probably refused to march another step. At the sight of Nick, he raised his firearm and stared at him with a nasty look. He may have been returning home to his family, but it was clear he wasn't about to let his enemy get any closer to their tracks.

"Where's the rest of your dragoons?" the man barked and brought himself to a standing position.

"The dragoons are a few towns back. They've been stopped by the townsmen there. They refuse to let them raid their town and get away with it. They're starting to fight back." Nick was desperate for this man to let him go. "I'm but one man trying to get to General Washington."

The deserting comrade lowered his firearm and took a seat. "They're about a quarter day ahead of you. I hope you can deliver them good news. The moral is failing miserably."

"Thank you good man." Nick felt relief flood him to know the troops were not far ahead of him. He tipped his hat at the man when he passed to continue to track them down.

Exhaustion was a commonality in the faces of the Continental Army troops. Most were barely carrying themselves one more step. Even Nick had felt the exhaustion, but forced himself to forge ahead. After all, he had too trekked the same path they had. The mood was grim as he entered the encampment. The men were nearly lifeless fallen from exhaustion. Perhaps Rall was correct in his observation that they were in no position to mount any kind of attack. Nonetheless, the opportunity was right for an attack.

He made it to the general's quarters. A debriefing was taking place, and Nick felt awkward about just walking inside the general's tent.

"Pardon me, but I must speak to General Washington." Nick decided he couldn't afford to put it off any more.

"Is there something you needed, Nick is it?" It came as a complete shock to Nick that Washington actually could remember his name. He had heard that he did make it a point to try to learn the names of the men who served under him, but Nick never really believed it until now.

"I was stopped by a man dressed as a British officer. He said his name was Greg. He claimed he had vital information of the Hessian whereabouts."

"I have no doubt that the man was honourable." Nick shot him a questioning look. "I may not be the best military man, Nick. However, I can see the need to know what my enemy is up to. Greg is a spy for me. A wolf dressed in sheep's clothing. If he risked exposing his cover to send me word, he must think it is important."

Nick took a deep breath and thought about what Greg had told him.

"What did, Mr. Honeyman say?" Nick gasped in shock as Washington said the name Greg had mentioned. "That is who you talked to I assume."

"Greg indicated the message was from John Honeyman."

"Relax. John Honeyman is his cover. If they knew his real identity, he would've been hung months ago."

"Understood. He said the Hessian's have stopped for the winter. That Rall refuses to push his men onward through the sleet and snow. Honeyman indicated that they had not built their redoubts, because the men were uncooperative. They are stationed not far from here at a town called Trenton."

"Is that all?" Washington asked.

"That's all." Nick bowed his head and left the quarters. He left the quarters as fast as he could and still maintaining his respect with the officer.

By three o'clock pm that day, they left. The weather that held off began to release all it had to offer. Freezing rain, and snow, fell from the miserably gray skies. They marched into the night with no rest. Several of the men had wanted to be home now celebrating Christmas with their family. Nick could care less if he saw his family again.

They moved into the attack, crossing the Delaware. The men were eager to go. They all seemed to know that this was the moment. They announced their arrival with a round of artillery. The town shook the life and the battle was on.

--

Lightning flashed through the angry skies above. Nick looked around in a state of confusion. The soft rolling hills appeared to go on forever. The knee-high grass blew like waves under the fierce wind.

A red fox slowly lifted its head out of the tall weeds, his brown eyes looking directly to Nick's. Nick felt a connection to this creature and knew immediately that this cunning fox was his spiritual guide.

The thunder rumbled above his head, and he looked up as the storm raged on.

"I thought you said the storm would be gone?" Nick yelled through the hissing of the wind and the torrential rain.

"The storm is a reflection of you," the fox answered looking up to the angry skies.

"I don't understand." Nick sighed and took a seat on the wet ground.

"The storm reflects your feelings, your thoughts, your mood, your state of being. It is storming in this place, because it is storming in your mind, in your heart and soul."

"How do I make it go away?" Nick foolishly asked. There was no denying he was naïve on many things that has to do with his own soul.

"In order to stop it, you must first know how it began."

"How it began?" Nick raised his eyebrow suspiciously.

"I can answer many questions, but there are some things, the mind must discover on its own. I could tell you where this storm began, but it would do you little good. Either way you will have to deal with the ramifications."

Nick gazed at the small creature for a little bit. He had a thousand questions he wanted answers to, but doubted the fox would answer them for him. They were things he had to discover on his own. However, there was one thing he was wondering. He pondered it a bit more asking himself if the fox would answer it. There wasn't a reason why he wouldn't that Nick could think of.

"Could you answer a question?" Nick maintained the eye contact he established with the small skittish creature. He wanted to build trust, but he had to know he was free to ask.

"You may," the fox bowed his head.

"I don't understand how I passed my test. I mean, I abandoned my family, I couldn't even keep up with the group, and I never even made it to battle. So, why did I pass?" Nick thought it was a good question.

The fox sighed, and his expression fell slightly from his near human-like face. "You passed, because you stood up for your principles. Family is important, but there are some things in life that are more important than family ties. The truths you are seeking are more important than the connection with your family is. You have to be willing to take the chance that you might have to abandon your family for what is right."

"I understand." Nick nodded in agreement.

"You demonstrated great strength, and determination in the completion of the mission. The end of the battle was irrelevant. You had already proved that you were ready to face the difficult truths that have been hidden from you for so long."

Nick thought long and hard on the words the small critter spoke. Through the thundering skies, angry flashing with light, under the torrential rains, Nick thought about life, about him. He thought where he fit in the world, and what he wanted from it.

The fox watched him the entire time contemplating his own future, his own well being.

"It is time for you to rest. You've been through a lot today, and you need to recover your strength."

"But I want to continue," Nick was insistent.

"We will continue, when you are a bit more rested. You have proved enough for one day. When you are ready to continue, I will always be here. You know where to find me now." Nick nodded.

"I promise, I will continue this."

"I have no doubt that you will." The fox said with a cheerful gleam within his eyes. "Yes, I do feel a change in the winds."

"Hey, did you send Singing Wolf visions?" Nick asked the fox quickly.

"I did. I didn't know how else to reach you. I'm glad you came." The fox bowed its head and trotted off into the rolling hills.


	7. Ranch in Spade Texas

**The once Future King**

**Part Two: Hidden Truths**

Chapter Seven:  
Ranch in Spade  
--

His heart pounded and his lungs were shortened of breath. Nick's eyes flew open in the darkness of the night's sky. The stars glistened overhead as he pulled himself off the ground. How long had he been sitting there beneath the stars finding his way to the path he must walk? He walked back to the encampment to find their fire long turned from embers to dust.

"Singing Wolf?" Nick called out. He searched the hills tracking the man who led him to this point. Over the hills and around the corner, but he was no where to be found. Maybe he wasn't supposed to be found. Without hope of finding the man he desired to see, he walked back toward the Indian's camp. He crossed over a hill and onto the second before he could see it. A fire, glowing brightly as the tall flames danced in the air. Around the fire a man too danced around singing the native songs of his people's warrior cries.

Nick stood there just down the hill unsure if he should approach the dancing man. With a deep breath, his decision was made and he walked up the steep hill. As he walked up the steep slope he couldn't help but to watch the dancing man. He knew very little about the native cultures. Pretty much all he knew was what he learned about them in elementary school, which was sure to be rudimentary at best. Seeing this man danced to the wildly flickering flames fascinated him.

However, once he reached the crest of the hill the festive dancing stopped as Singing Wolf's young observer came into view.

"Come, sit, have a smoke," Singing Wolf offered his peace pipe. Nick accepted it gracefully and brought the elegantly carved wooden pip to his lips and invited the smoke deep into his lungs. "I hope you found what you were looking for," the old man gave a smile and brought the pipe to his lips.

"I did, thank you," Nick offered his gratitude toward the man. If he hadn't shown up at his hospital bed on that fateful night, Nick wouldn't know where he'd be today. Probably still in a funk unable to decide which direction his life should go. Silently, he thanked the man who shot him for opening his eyes to what he had to live for.

"While you went soul searching, I took the liberty to finish, this," he unfurled the deerskin pelt Nick killed earlier. "This will help you centre your thoughts, and will help bring you the inner peace necessary for you to continue to seek your spirit guide in the future."

It looked amazing, decorated with burns of a native symbol. Nick would treasure it for as long as he lived.

"Whatever you saw in your quest, was for your eyes only and no one else's. It was for your benefit alone. These things are a private matter between you and your spirit guide. No one else in the world has to know or needs to know."

"I understand," Nick bowed his head slightly.

With some last words of advice, Singing Wolf released Nick to his life. It felt different walking down the hill away from his fire. In the distance, he saw his horse tied to a tree nibbling on the grassy hill below. He rolled the dried pelt and flopped it over his horse's back before mounting his stead. He looked over to Singing Wolf dancing again around the fire before he spurred his horse and left these sacred lands behind him.

The journey back home was long and tiresome. His spirit guide had been right when he said Nick would need some rest. He kept going though, refusing to stop, to slow for anything. He travelled until he couldn't keep his eyes open one moment longer.

He stumbled into a motel late that night barely able to stay on his feet.

"May I help you, sir?" the auditor greeted the weary man.

"I need a room for the night," He told the clerk. Not that it would be much of a night seeing how in just a few hours it would be day again. Nonetheless, she checked her computer and checked him into a first floor room where he could hang up his hat for the remainder of the night.

The room was the same as any other hotel room with one bed, a bedside table with the mandatory phone, remote, and lamp on it. Across from the bed sat the dresser, empty of course except the holy bible probably located in the top most drawer. Most of all, it was a bed that Nick could crash.

When the morning came, Nick decided that he could not return to his White Rock Lake home. He couldn't return to Adrianna, his soon-to-be-ex-wife. He would leave her even if it was nothing more than his horse, and the clothes upon his back. He didn't need anything else. He didn't need his truck, or his clothes. He would buy new ones when he got to Las Vegas anyways.

With little option, Nick decided that the only place he could turn would be toward his Spade, Texas home. It wasn't where he wanted to stay, but he couldn't think of any other place that would take him. He mounted the horse and spurred it westward to the ranch he grew up on.

It was the same house Nick always remembered. Not much has changed about it, not even the loose floorboards of the front porch. His finger pressed the doorbell, and he listened to the chimes alerting his mother to his presence. With open arms, Jillian graciously welcomed her son into her house and shut the door. "It's good to see you, Nick," she kissed him lovingly upon the cheek. "You're looking good, strong," she beamed upon her son. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Yeah, black would be good."

Nick walked the walls of the house he called his home. He did notice that some things have changed. Hanging from the wall, sat a picture with a familiar, yet distant man sitting cross-legged upon the ground.

"Mom, who's this guy?" Nick asked unable to tear his eyes away from this mysterious man. It struck him odd that this man he did not know was sitting in their family portrait. He doesn't really recall him, but he knew he had saw him before.

"Oh, some distant relative," she blew off the question not even bothering to look at the small boy. "You don't need to worry about him," she added kindly.

"No, mom, no more lies, no more of this, 'I don't need to worry' crap. I need to know about him, please. If there is anything I need to know, tell me," Nick urged. In his gut, he knew there was more to this mysterious man sitting next to him his hand placed fondly upon Nick's thigh.

Jillian sighed as she walked from the kitchen with two steaming mugs of coffee in hand. Nick was looking at that one photograph that he wasn't supposed to see. Bill swore her to silence about Gregory Sanders. He was the one subject she knew was completely forbidden from docile conversation. But when she looked into her son's familiar eyes, she could feel her heart crumble under his pained expression.

"My doctor thinks the headaches and my memory gaps are connected," Nick stated.

"So, nothing's helped with the pain?"

"No." Nick took a deep breath and turned to his mother. "Mom, did dad do something to me?" He vaguely recalled some of the carefully chosen words the fox said. Nick recalled how they didn't seem to make sense at the time. However, now seeing the unknown boy in that photograph he could see that this was the same unknown boy who frequently invaded his dreams. Suddenly, the fox's words made perfect sense.

"Why do you say that?" She too picked her words carefully.

"No reason, I suppose," he brushed it off slightly. "It's just… something doesn't feel right," he paused. "Please, mom, I need to know."

Her eyes were saddened by how her son hurt. She tried to talk Bill out of it all those years ago, but his mind was made up. She tired to convince him that there were worse things in life than being gay. He wouldn't listen though.

"His name is Gregory Sanders Stokes, though he goes by Greg Sanders now. He used to live with us."

"Where is he now?"

"He went off to school at Stanford studying chemistry."

"I bet he's good at it…" She didn't answer the question he wanted, but maybe she would be willing to answer them to a point. After all, he knew that ultimately it would be him that would have to discover the truth for himself.

Nick couldn't explain it, but there was something his guide told him that struck him. Maybe a tragic event happened in one of those memory gaps of his. He feared for a second this man was dead, but Jillian's words were in the present tense told him, Greg still lived.

"Mom, I have to know, did dad do something to me and cover it up?"

"He thought it would be in your best interests."

"Mine? Or his?"

"He loves you, Nick you know he does. He only wants what's best."

"He says that, but I don't know any more, mom. My head's spinning, I don't even know who I am any more. How can this be good for me? Is it so bad that I know this boy, Greg?"

"Nick, it's not that simple," she took a deep breath. "Please, come, take a seat."

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not.' He walked to the far wall and leaned upon his outreached hand. "There's something I need to do, mom. I'm going to find the answers I need, one way or another. I'll be out in the fields. I don't want to be bothered. I don't know when I will be back, but it's important that I do this."

"I hope you find them, Nicky. I would tell you, but Bill made me promise." Her eyes had the look of sincere regret and that's something that Nick would carry with him for the rest of his life. His mother regrets what they did to him. Now, he knew Bill did do something to him.

He hugged his mother goodbye and walked out the backdoor. She just stood there watching her son as he disappeared down the narrow path that would take him to the creek. Instantly, her mind went back to yesteryears, when Nick and Greg would climb upon Jasper and gallop through the cotton fields together. Jillian knew that was who her son had always loved. She knew he could never truly love Adrianna, no matter how many times he had his mind altered to think he did. For her son's sake, she hoped that he found the answered he came to find. She feared that he would never forgive his father's actions, but hoped that his hate wouldn't tear apart their family. She knew it was a risk they took when Bill walked out of the house with an unwilling Nicky that night. She prayed that he could find it in his heart to forgive his father's mistakes.

Nick pushed the brush away from his face as he walked further down the narrow path. Determination took control of his mind, his actions. He wasn't going to settle for anything less than the truth about his life. He needed to know why he didn't love Adrianna and why he couldn't stop dreaming about… about Greg. He had to know why his mind hurt constantly and why he never felt complete. If he had to put his finger on it, he would say he was a puzzle with one piece missing.

The creek had dried from the summer's hot sun. The trees still green with life covered the browned grass hiding from the brutal rays of the sun. Just over the small hill, off the western bank, a small clearing of trees still remained. He spread the deerskin over the grassy knoll and he fell to his knees. His eyelids fell shut, his face turned upward to the sky as he began to breathe the fresh country air and cried out the native words Singing Wolf taught him.

--

The skies were still dark, but calmer as Nick gazed over the soft rolling hills. The rain constantly poured from the blackened clouds filling the skies. In the distance, he could see the small red fox sitting on the hill looking up to the angry rainclouds seeking answers.

"What are you looking for?" Nick asked taking a seat next to the fox.

"A resolve," answered the fox still keeping his eye fixed on the clouds. "I thought I saw one of the sun's rays break the barrier of the clouds. I must've been seeing things."

"Maybe someday, the rains will break," Nick tried to encourage the animal."

"Perhaps."

A moment of silence passed between the two of them. Nick found peace in the moment. Sitting with this fox, he felt at ease and comfortable. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he really couldn't remember feeling this level of tranquillity.

"I've been thinking," Nick broke the silence.

"Everybody thinks," the fox paused. "Not everybody thinks about the same thing. So what's on your mind, my friend?"

"I've been thinking about you. I don't know what to call you. Do you have a name or something?"

"I don't really have a name," he stood from his spot to look Nick in the eye. " I am simply a form that represents your soul."

"There must be something I could call you. I mean, I can't always come here and call you, 'Hey You'."

The fox chuckled merrily at this notion of a name. It was such a mortal thing to render everything to a word or a name. The fox shouldn't have been surprised that Nick would want to name him. "Well, I for one happen to think that Hey You is a wonderful name."

"I mean a real name."

"You may call me whatever you would like. I mean after all I am the living embodiment of your soul." The fox flopped over in the tall grass placing its black-socked feet into the air kicking the rain as he rolled around on his back. Nick chuckled at the sight of the goofy fox squirming around in the tall grass.

Nick thought about what he should call the playful fox for a few minutes. It was certainly hard. He couldn't call him Nick that would just be odd.

"Comfortable?"

"Oh yeah," replied the fox as he continued to scratch against the ground.

Nick continued to watch the fox rolling gleefully upon the ground. He certainly was a playful creature. Nick smiled and continued to think on what he should call the little critter. His mind continued to race with ideas of something he could call his playful guide. In his mind, he shot down name after name.

"I think I will call you, Peri," smiled Nick rather liking the name he chose for the red and black fox.

"Peri, I like that name," the fox rolled over to a sitting position with what appeared to be a slight smile upon his face. "It's a nice name."

"I need answers, Peri." Nick sighed. "I can't live like this any more. I know there's something wrong with me and I need to know what."

It was Peri's turn to sigh. His head tilted back toward the angry clouds above. "I too am tired of the gloomy skies. But even though I wish they were gone, I'm not prepared to give you information for which you are not fully ready for. Do you feel like you are prepared for what the answers to your questions could be?"

"I'm prepared for whatever will come."

"You sound so sure about that, Mmm? If I were you, I wouldn't jump in so hastily."

"I need to know," Nick argued.

"You deserve to know, but there is much pain that lies behind."

"At this point I'm in pain now. I don't care, I need to know."

"Very well, you may discover your answers. However, I must warn you. This is a perilous emotional rollercoaster that you will subject yourself to. The first time you lived through these events you had the proper amount of time to absorb; to deal with them in your own way. This time, you may not have the luxury of time to absorb the events that has happened to you over these years."

"Understood."

"I am prepared to perhaps lessen the blow, and put the events in an alternate form if you wish."

"Explain," Nick sat there intrigued by this option.

"I could rig up a scenario that could allow you to explore the truth in a less damaging way. You are of course free to explore the truth in its original form. Understand it would be as you are now, looking back upon yourself going through these actions unable to do anything but watch them."

"And the scenario?"

"It would allow you to live through the events, as they happened to you. You would not be a spectator, but a part of it. It should allow you more time to process the actions, and let you know that you had no other course of action to follow. It would take longer though."

"I think I will take the scenario," Nick answered.

"You do realize that this means you will not be able to leave while the scenario plays."

"I understand. However, I need to know the truth." Nick spoke clearly.

"Very well," Peri said and stomped his left foot two times.


	8. The Apollo Theatre

**The once Future King**

**Part Two: Hidden Truths**

--  
Chapter Eight:  
The Apollo Theatre  
--

"Remember that everything you see is an alteration of what really happened to you. At the end I will explain them in further detail if you wish," Peri stated. Nick nodded and informed the small fox that he was ready to know the truth. The fox understood Nick's needs and agreed to let him see the horrible truth for what it was.

--

Day turned to night and Nick still cried by his brother's graveside. He couldn't move from the spot his brother was buried. He should've been there for him. His heart tormented him and tore him between his obligation to his new family and his obligation as a brother.

"He would've gone whether you wanted him to or not," his mother reminded him and sat next to the grief-stricken man. "There was nothing you could've done."

"I could've been there for him. Gone over there to keep an eye on him, something, mom." Nick cried out in agony.

"He wouldn't have let you. You know how he is," she reasoned.

"I do… I just… I feel like I should've done something," Nick rested his head upon his knees. His body was worn with grief, tears slid down his face from his bloodshot eyes.

"He made his choice, you made yours," his mom tried to comfort her grieving son.

"I don't know if I can live with that choice," Nick replied.

"You're going to have to find a way," she gave him a small hug and left him to think about her words.

Nick didn't know what to do. He and his brother had always been so close. Now without him, he didn't know what to do. They had planned on running the farm business together, but now that was another fantasy that would never come to pass. His mother watched from the distance as her son agonized over his brother's premature death. War could be both beneficial and brutal to both sides that fought at the front lines. She knew that more than anything having to watch her first husband and the father of her sons pass on during the First World War. It was the same story as before. Except now, her eldest son was killed instead of her lover. Still, she watched as her son agonized over the mortality of war.

Hours later, Nick finally staggered back into the small farm house and took a seat upon the old feather bed. He felt nothing. He sat there idly feeling the numbness of his grief ridden heart. He felt no sensation of touch, no smell outside of dirt and all the world's colours faded into shades of blacks and greys. In many ways he couldn't believe this was real.

His wife walked into the room and quietly took a seat next to him. She didn't understand the pain he felt. Yet, the contact was welcomed, and refreshing. Nick leaned into his wife's embrace and cried upon her shoulder. Her perfectly manicured hand gently stroked his back, attempting to smooth her agonizing husband. Peace was not findable inside the Stokes house though.

A few hours later, the house sank into a restless slumber as silence took command over the home. Nick lye awake in bed thinking on what he wants in life. Nothing came to his mind and it was decided that he would do anything that Eva wanted. It wasn't the life he wanted to dreamed, but his dreams were smashed to bits and pieces with the death of his brother.

The thought of letting her control the direction of his life gave him a certain level of comfort. His eyes drifted closed and his lungs finally filled with air as relief finally found him and sleep followed shortly after.

After a few months, Nick packed up the old rusted out farm truck with everything he and Eva owned. Eva stood at the porch, while Nick finished tying the luggage to the roof. He wasn't sure about moving to New York, but it was what Eva wanted. She always did want to become a Broadway actress. Nick never thought she had 'Star Quality', but she seemed to think she did, so they were all set to go to the big apple.

Nick hugged his mom goodbye, took Eva by the hand and led her to the passenger seat of the old red rusted bucket of bolts and strapped her in. Cranking the old worn out engine, he gave one last look toward his mother and they were off.

There was a part of him that wanted to stay on this farm, the place where he grew up. One some level he knew he should stay with his mother, knowing that there was no way she could run this farm without him.

"I'll be fine," his mother stated loudly. She was a tenacious woman, and once she made up her mind, that was it. Whether he wanted to or not, Nick was going to New York City.

The city's glow could be seen for miles away in the night sky. Nick had never seen such a glow before and immediately knew that the city must have expanded for endless miles. If the glow was huge, it had nothing compared to the size of the city itself. Nick never imaged how grand the city really could be. He was nearly awestruck by the glory of it all.

"Well, here we are." He slowed to a stop in front of a tall red-bricked building. It wasn't exactly what Nick was expecting to see, yet he double checked the address and it was indeed the correct address. He was less than impressed with the place. However it was all they could afford. They stopped by the office, and received their key and promptly shown their new flat.

"Spacious," Nick idly commented. He walked toward the window taking a glance at the view and was yet again disappointed to see nothing but strings of laundry strung between the narrow alleyway between the buildings.

"Sorry to say, the view's not much better," the owner expressed his sympathies.

"It's fine," Nick tried to assure the man and shook his hand to complete the deal. "Well, what do you think about our first place?"

"It's not what I imagined," she sighed with her eyes clinched tight. "I guess it will do," she tried to stay positive.

"I'm sure it will brighten up after we fill it with all our own stuff," I kissed my wife lovingly. It might have been a sight for sore eyes, but it was our very first apartment. It was the first step in growing up and becoming a real man as Cisco would say.

--

A month passed, and the young couple up in room twelve twenty one were falling on hard times. Even penny pinching and reducing their bills they were still moneyless and dirt broke. Their cupboards were dry to the bone, the electricity was already cut. There was no end to the misery in sight. Nick's wife had brought no income in, and she refused to let Nick work in this brutal city.

Nick refused to voice his concerns as he sifted through the mail by the limited light from the window. He couldn't even get a word in inch-wise about it. Eva went on and on about one audition or another and how she said she nailed the spot. Each time though, she never got that second call, and now today, wouldn't get that call because the phone was shut off about two hours ago. All this sacrificing for Eva's dream and it was slowly running through their fingers.

It was getting to the point where Nick was on the verge of breaking Eva's cardinal rule about moving here. Let's face it. They had bigger fish to fry than auditioning for every act imaginable. They needed a roof over their heads, food in their stomachs, and that meant someone had to start brining in some real income.

Nick didn't come from a lot of money, but his family had money to their name. However, it wouldn't last forever and he knew that better than anyone. When he was a young squirt in the twenties, his family had everything made, but years later, things were ripped from his grasps as his family hit rock bottom. He promised himself that he would never find himself that poor again.

Swallowing what was left of his pride, he picked up the phone and called his mom. He tried to explain their situation and how stupid he has been to listen to Eva. Unfortunately, their Texas farm had experienced hardships as well. A hailstorm brought gigantic stones from the sky and ruined any hopes of their crops success. Money was tight everywhere from his vantage point. As it was, the farm was functioning off pennies and Nick offered his encouragement to his mother and then the phone service was cut off.

He sighed as he sifted through the mountain of unpaid bills. They had no money and despite Eva's desires to make it into stardom, she wasn't going to save them from the evitable feat of being kicked out of their apartment. Already on their second notice for their rent and their third for their water, there was only so much that Nick could ignore. Right now, he couldn't ignore the bills, even if Eva told him not to worry about it. She always said she knew she had nailed the audition. Unfortunately, she never got called back. It was time for Nick to face the reality of things. They needed a liveable income and now.

He scribbled a note to Eva explaining where he had gone, and left the small one room apartment to look for a job. Nick walked around the massive city and talked to everyone who would listen. The most he received was an uncertain maybe and he continued on his way. Through the endless blocks of the city streets, he wandered to the tunes of the street performers earning their pennies.

He was about to give up and call it quits when he stumbled across a small theatre, night club. Figuring it couldn't hurt to ask for employment he stepped inside the comfy-cosy place just in time to dodge a flying chair. The patron's of the establishment were crouched under the booths as were the performers. In centre stage stood a rather angry man with a crooked pulsating vein shouting profanity at every one he could. Even the barkeep ducked the flying glasses the man tossed carelessly around. Wine glasses went hurdling through the air. Nick crouched down beside the door, hoping not to be seen by the angry man.

_'What was I thinking walking into this place?'_ he asked himself dodging a thrown plate.

"Welcome to the Apollo Threatre, the place where stars are born and legends are made," the server extended his hand.

"Thanks," Ncik replied and took the hand. "I hope every night is not like tonight," he reckoned.

"No, no," the man chuckled. "That is the exuberant Calvin Franz. He seems to think he's entitled. The Schiffman's hired him to play the jazz piano for our dinner guests. They decided he played about as well as an alley cat's mew and proceeded to throw rotten fruit at him during his performance. I must agree about his playing ability. It was particularly bad tonight. He must've downed a few before taking the stage again."

"Why didn't the Schiffman's fire Franz?" Nick inquired.

"Well, they tried, several times. The lunatic won't listen. See, he believes he is the greatest musician to walk the planet, better than Billie Holliday and the Big Bopper all rolled up into one. Thinks he's the biggest, best thing alive. He doesn't take no for an answer, and he has plagued the Schiffman's ever since. He accuses them of not recognizing talent when they see it."

"So, what started this latest episode?" Nick asked as he dodged another flying beer mug.

"Tonight is amateur night, where virtual unknowns take the stage and give their best. Cal walks in expecting to perform, as usual. In his inebriated state, he must've forgotten about the schedule, and started throwing things when he was told he couldn't perform. It infuriated him that he couldn't perform. See, by his own admission he was not an amateur, and then was when he was ushered away from the stage. Unfortunately, he wasn't going to go without a fight and this little hissy fit has been going on ever since," the host stated.

"Well, are you going to do something about it?" asked Nick seeing this as the perfect opportunity to acquire work.

"He'll eventually run out of things to destroy and leave this mess behind for us to clean up. In the mean time, do you really want to confront that?" he pointed to the irate man still raging on and on about not being allowed to perform.

"How about this? I will wrestle up your bull for you there, and kindly escort him out the back door. And you can get yourself a new bouncer, to keep him out."

"Sounds like an excellent idea," the host smiled widely. He was obviously tired from this endless hissy fit as were several of the patrons still hiding beneath the tablecloths. "It'll have to go through the boss, but I don't think they'd turn down your offer."

Nick waited until the storm calmed a bit before even attempting to cross the floor of the theatre to the offices on the other side. When the drunken man slowed his assault for a bit, Nick took his chance and darted across the room for the small offices. He wasn't about to waste his opportunity to get this job. After all, he was desperate. With some stroke of luck, Nick managed to get to the other side of the room unscathed. Once there, he caught his breath, tugged down the jacket to his worn out suit and knocked politely on the door.

"This better not be Franz," grumbled the man on the other side of the door.

"May I come in?" Nick gulped. "My name is Nicholas Stokes."

Nick could almost hear the exasperated man behind the locked door let out a sigh of relief. "Come in, if you wish," he huffed and unlocked the door for the waiting man.

He didn't waste a moment in getting into the office, as Franz's sabbatical came to an abrupt end. The man was a complete lunatic. Fearing the flying chair, he hastily closed the door to come face to face with an elder well-distinguished man that was obviously Mr. Schiffman.

"What may I do for you?" he asked politely and offered Nick a seat.

"I see you have yourself a little problem out there," Nick stated frankly.

"A little problem indeed," Mr. Schiffman replied with a wholehearted chuckle. "That Calvin Franz is going to put me out of business if his rampages continue on as they have."

"Well, how about this, Mr…."

"Shiffman," he filled in his name.

"Well, as I was saying, Mr. Schiffman, I believe I can solve your problem. You obviously can't run a business effectively if Calvin Franz keeps driving all your patrons away with these little fits of his."

"And you believe you can help?"

"I think I can remove him from your establishment and keep him out if you get my drift," Nick stated confidently.

"I do," he agreed. "But… he's a raving lunatic, he's completely mental," he huffed. "Frankly, I don't see how it is possible for you. I mean he has at least a hundred pounds on you. But, you seem to think you're able to so I'll bite. How do you plan to help?"

"By making sure he doesn't enter your fine establishment again," Nick smiled. "Back home, I used to chase bucking bulls away from fallen riders. After that, this will be no problem. Give me ten minutes and I promise, Cal Franz will wish he never came across me. If I am successful, I will also make sure he never returns."

Schiffman thought about what Nick said. It could be said that Cal Franz wasn't much different from a rampaging bull. Cal Franz was definitely a problem for his theatre. He couldn't run a business if his patrons were fearful of their lives. So after a while of thinking about it, he agreed it would be a good idea to let Nick at least attempt to remove this imbecile from the premises.

"How much would you like to be paid for your services if you should succeed?"

"Whatever you feel it is worth to keep that lunatic away from this place," Nick replied hoping that the answer would be higher than the amount he'd speak. Right now he was desperate for money and any amount would really do. "You can't run a successful theatre if your audience continues to be pelted with beer mugs," Nick reminded him.

"Fair enough, I will pay you the going rate for any person under my employ. Once the idea of him being banned from this place sinks into that thick skull of his, I should take you on as a barkeep just in case we ever have another incident of this nature."

Their hands came together shaking to seal the deal. Now, it was time for Nick to make good on his part. Unfortunately for him, something or someone set that bastard off again. Yet again an array of things went tumbling through the air as the man reverted back to his five-year-old self throwing a music stand across the room.

Nick crouched low and darted quickly to the man. He couldn't delay or think about what he was about to do. The angry bull would be given too much time to react. The closer he got to the enraged man, the stronger the stench of alcohol became. The man reeked of it to the point it made his eyes water. By the time Cal realized Nick was on his tail it was too late to react.

As lioness pounces its prey, Nick quickly attacked the man bringing him promptly to the floor. The man winded, lye upon the ground wheezing for air as Nick held him firmly in place. "I believe you were just leaving," Nick stated coldly to the man.

Schiffman was definitely impressed by Nick's ability to wrestle that idiot plum to the floor. In all his years he had never seen a move quite like that and it thrilled him to think this man would be working for him. He was everything he said he was and then some. He would make the perfect barkeep for this joint.

"Make it clear to him that he's fired," Schiffman added as Nick walked him out by the scuff of his neck. Oh, it was a sweet sight to behold.

Nick informed the crazed man of his official fired status in the bar and promptly tossed him out in the back alleyway. After all, it served him right to be thrown out like the piece of garbage he was. He sat there a pile of a man in the wet alleyway and Nick couldn't seem to find sympathy for the man.

"Is there anything else?" Nick asked confidently.

"No, I think that'll do," smiled Schiffman finally pleased that someone could put that idiot in his place. The place silenced after the rampage, the patrons emerged from their hiding places. Some of them left, vowing never to return, while others helped the staff clean up the place. With everyone working as hard as they can for one goal, the work passed quickly until you couldn't tell the place had been rampaged at all. It really was a nice looking place, with tables, and chairs and the mainstage over it all. There wasn't a bad seat in the house from what Nick could tell.

"Be here by five o'clock tomorrow and you got yourself a job," Schiffman informed Nick.

"I'll see you then," replied Nick as he walked out the door.


	9. Spread Your Wings & Fly Away

**The once Future King**

**Part Two: Hidden Truths**

--  
Chapter Nine:  
Spread your wings and Fly away  
--

The streets were dark and wet, reflecting the soft glow of the iridescent lights from above. Nick was quite proud of himself for obtaining such an optimal job and it showed. He walked with his chest out and his head up knowing that they'd be provided for with good money in just a week's time. Deep down, he knew that Eva wasn't going to be happy for him, but he also knew that they would have to have some income soon or they'd be out sleeping in the streets like rats.

When he finally arrived home, he found Eva sitting cross-legged at the table. Her eyes narrowed as he approached her and he knew then he was in deep. He shouldn't have been surprised. Eva hated it when he left and didn't leave as much as a note behind.

"And just where have you been?" she stated firmly. Her eyes were green and cold. So cold, he could swear a shiver just tingled down his spine. There was such a rage in her voice. Oh, it was diluted, for sure, but it was still there and Nick knew it.

The last thing Nick wanted was to add fuel to this already burning fire. He knew he should have left her a note. Even still, it would have angered her to know that he was out hunting for a job. In his mind, he had darn good reason to do so. With all these late notices on their bills and their apartment manager threatening to throw them out on the streets if they weren't paid soon, he knew they would have nothing else. Without a word said, Nick took a seat in the armchair and turned his back to his beautiful wife.

"Don't you ignore me," she cried out.

"What else can I do?" Nick gazed at her intensely. "I can't do anything without you personally attacking me."

"You can answer the question on what were you doing?"

"Finding a job," Nick answered.

"We don't need a job," she walked over to him gently folding her hands over his. "I came back from an audition today. The director seemed very impressed with my performance. I'm sure I'll be featured in his next play."

"Yeah, but what if…" Nick sighed. "What if he's playing you again? He wouldn't be the first director to give you that 'warm fuzzy' feeling, and then dump you like yesterday's garbage. Eva look around. If we don't pay the rent in two weeks, the landlord will kick us out of here. The electricity's already off, and the water will be turned off shortly. We have no food in our pantry. We have nothing. Right now, we need to think about surviving, and your pursuit of acting is not putting any bread on the table. I went out and I found a job. It's not a high paying job, but at least it will keep the lights on." Nick defended his position and left the room. He had no more desire to see Eva right now. He knew he was on that verge of physical violence. He's reached it many times, but never this closely so he removed himself. If she were smart she would stay away until he's calmed down.

He combed his fingers through his hair and wondered if he did the right thing. He knew he made the right choice, but he wondered if Eva really was telling the truth and she did finally land her first job. Nick walked to the window and gazed out to the laundry strung out between the narrow brick walls. Maybe he was out of line, but then again it was the man's job to provide for his family.

No, he didn't do anything wrong. He was right, they needed steady income. He sighed again not knowing she couldn't see the need. He needed to work. He was able and willing, and they desperately needed the money.

Eva stepped inside and placed her hand gently over his shoulder. He turned to face her and looked upon her with saddened eyes.

"If you want me to quit the job, I'll quit," he conceded to her wishes. At this point it was easier than fighting over it.

"I don't want you to quit," she assured him softly. "You're right, we do need a steady income."

"If you want me to quit, I will."

"Don't worry about it. If you want the job, keep it."

He leaned into her tender embrace, and knew that this was the real thing. In his brain at least he knew that he loved Eva. However, deep down, he wasn't so sure. Sometimes he wondered if he didn't just put up with her. However, his heart didn't matter at the moment. His brain did and his brain was helplessly in love with this vixen.

"What did I ever do to deserve you?" he leaned into her embrace and kissed her tenderly.

--

As the weeks passed, things appeared to improve for the young couple. Eva finally got a job as a stage hand at one of the bigger theatres and Nick was no longer feeling the stresses that came with facing a night out on the streets. Even though on the outside things were better on the inside something was definitely broken. Nick couldn't seem to put his finger on it, but he could feel it down deep in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong. As the time passed, Nick found he was barely able to spend a single moment alone with Eva. Instead, he found himself spending more and more time away from the woman he called his wife.

It started so innocently. Eva would sit down and talk about her dreams, ambitions, and goals. Every time she spoke though, Nick swore a part of his heart was being chained up, locked away, and steam rolled all at the same time. He couldn't explain it any other way. When he heard her talk he just knew part of his soul was dying.

"Have a good day," Nick bid his wife and stepped out of his apartment.

The day was beautiful. The skies were blue and the birds sang their lovely songs. He walked with a skip in his step down the familiar city blocks on his way to work. The old buildings were a beautiful sight to see. Trees lined the streets, the children played with their balls and bats as they screamed and shouted.

On the usual day, being outside away from Eva was enough to cheer him up, to lift him out of this helpless feeling that overcame him whenever Eva was around. Today he wasn't so lucky. The nagging feeling deep down in his gut wouldn't be quelled. No matter how he looked at it he was trapped with Eva.

It's gotten to the point where Nick started to lie about when he was supposed to be in for work, just so he could spend a few more hours away from her. For the past few weeks, he's left his apartment three hours earlier than what was needed, just to get away from her. Deep down, he knew no matter what he did Eva had him trapped and it wasn't a good feeling for him.

He looked to the birds and the freedom that they had and didn't even know. They could just spread their wings and fly away. Nick looked at them with an envious gleam as he wished he could spread his wings and just fly away from his life, away from Eva.

On most days being outside away from her was enough to forget about the chains that bound him. His eyes fell upon the golden ring around his finger and the prison it represented. It was his duty to provide for his wife, but he found that his interests and hers weren't aligned and probably would never be aligned. There was a part of him, the inner child of his soul that wanted to pack his bags and run away. Then there was the adult part of Nick, the honourable man he had become who knew he could never do that no matter how much he wanted to up and leave this life.

Today was horrible for Nick. Eva was on a tear about how their apartment was run down and how nothing worked right. She kept saying things about houses for sale in the area ones they might actually be able to afford. She said it would be the answer to their prayers, but Nick felt otherwise. Those houses across town weren't what Eva was looking for. They weren't the houses with the big green front yard, complete with the tall oak tree and swing. They didn't have the white picked fence out front and deep down, Nick knew that owning a house wouldn't fix their problems.

She insisted that it would though. She got into it awful today talking about how the toaster wouldn't pop and just seemed to keep burning the bread. Tomorrow, Nick could only guess what would set her off. All he knew was buying a house wouldn't solve their problems.

"Nick," she pleaded with him. Her eyes green and filled with a silent plead gazed at him. "A house…"

"Eva, a house won't solve our problems. Owning a house won't suddenly make our lives better," he tried to reason with her, but he knew it was pointless, her mind was made up.

"How do you know?" she stepped closer to him. He didn't dare answer her. In her mind, a house was the only solution and he knew it would be pointless to argue that fact. He knew better than to answer her, so he grabbed his hat from the hook and walked out the door without so much as another word.

He's been doing that a lot recently, starting arguments with his wife for the sake of having an argument. They were never really bad, but he knew that it wasn't the makings of the good strong relationship they were supposed to have.

Now, Nick walked the streets, his stomach unusually empty having forgot to grab his brown bagged lunch from the counter. He tried to ignore the rumble in his stomach, but it was no use. It was there and crying out loudly for attention.

His hand reached inside his pocket hoping he had enough to buy something from the place he worked. Sadly, the only thing he found in his pockets was mere pennies, which certainly wasn't enough to buy any kind of food. Not even the tiniest snack to soothe the hunger inside him.

Nick walked a bit further hoping his hunger would resolve itself over time, but he had no such luck. The further he walked the worse it seemed to get. It was to the point where he could no longer keep convincing himself that he wasn't hungry. Once again, he looked down at the change in his hand trying to determine what he could buy for three pennies and a nickel. It was simply not enough.

Unable to stand the rumble in his stomach a moment longer, he knew he had to do something. Perhaps he could convince someone to allow him to pay for the food he ate at a later time. In a few days time and he could pay for the food then. Deciding that was worth a shot, he walked toward the small diner at the block's end.

The diner wasn't like the other buildings. It was deep forest green, made from wood instead of bricks. It was an older building, Nick was sure. It had a dull look to it unlike the others that surrounded it. The place had one long sweeping window that surrounded the tiny place that exposed the bright yellow interior within and the lanky man standing behind the counter. From across the street, Nick could see he had sandy blond hair and deep rich brown eyes. Even though he was quite sure he had never seen the man before, he did look familiar to him. He just couldn't remember exactly where he's seen him before. Maybe he passes him on the way to work. Who knew where Nick encountered this man before?

Slowly, he made his way for the diner uncertain if this man would accept a delayed payment for the food. For Nick, this was worth the risk because he knew he'd get none if he didn't ask. Garnering his courage, he stepped inside the small diner, the cowbell clanked against the door.

"Good afternoon," he was greeted politely by the attendant behind the counter. "My name's Greg Sanders, is there anything I can get for you today? Maybe a sandwich or a bowl of soup?"

"Um," Nick answered nervously fumbling with the eight cents buried deep inside his pockets. "What can I get for a nickel and some pennies?" the young customer asked.

"Well, that's a tough one, but why don't you try our club sandwich. It's only seventy-five cents, but I like you, so I'd settle for eight and a repeat visit.

It was a bargain Nick couldn't afford to pass up. He took a seat at the counter and watched as the young man constructed the massive foot-long club sandwich. The sandwich was larger than he ever imaged it would be. Here he was hoping for two slices of bread, some meat, maybe some cheese and some lettuce. He never imaged Greg practically giving him a foot-long sandwich that he couldn't figure out how to put into his mouth. The thing was absolutely massive and Nick couldn't have been more thankful.

"Thank you, you have no idea how much I appreciate this," he said grateful for the food.

"It was nothing. My privilege," Greg smiled and disappeared for a while behind the metal doors to the back.

He sat there quietly and ate his sandwich. His mind wasn't as quiet though. Inside his head, a storm raged. He simply did not know what to do about Eva. The only thing Nick knew for sure was that things couldn't stay the way they were now. It was killing him and he knew it.

Deeply entwined in his thoughts, he didn't see Greg walk back out to join him.

"I haven't seen you around, are you new to these parts?" Greg's voice jarred him from the endless circle his thoughts had taken. Nick's eyes looked up from the half-eaten sandwich to find Greg leaned over the counter, his brown eyes staring deep into his eyes. Those soft brown eyes were the most beautiful thing Nick had ever seen in his life and he knew somewhere inside him that he's definitely seen them before. It just felt so right looking into those brown depths.

"Hmmm?" Nick answered unintelligently. Damn those eyes tugged at his heart, his body, his mind, and quite possibly his soul. He could have sworn that he felt the room increase in heat under that gaze. His toes curled as his body responded eagerly to the sensual look.

"I make it a point to notice my patrons," he beamed. "I haven't seen you here before. Though, I think I see you frequently walking to the Apollo Theare is it?"

"Oh, yeah," Nick blushed unaware that anyone had actually taken the time to notice him walking on the streets. "Are you sure?" he choked out.

"A beautiful man like yourself comes walking by my establishment every day, his head hung low as though there were no hope in the universe to save him. I would like to think I would have noticed something at least. It wouldn't be like me not to notice someone like you walking by my place every day." He smiled.

If his eyes weren't enough to light up the room, warm him to the bones and make him feel as loved as he did the day he was brought into this world, then that smile would have done it. All Nick could think was, 'wow' at the sight of that beautiful smile. God, the way his body responded as Greg closed the distance. His body desperately craved for the man to touch him, take him by the hand, wrap his arms around him, kiss him, or anything. He couldn't believe his body wanted such things from another man, but they were clear as day inside his head. The troubles he had with Eva were instantly pushed aside at the sight of that gorgeous smile.

"It's a bit early to be headed to the theatre don't you think?" Greg continued.

"I suppose," Nick shrugged off the question. His mind though was gone. All he could think about was that man leaning over the counter and what those soft slender lips could do.

"I mean, I've seen you at the Apollo, it's a great place to hear amateur musicians. One day I might even muster up the courage to take the stage there. One day perhaps I will," he beamed. It was Greg's attempt at small talk. His attempt to break through the hardened outer shell of his troubled patron slouched over his stool.

Whether Nick wanted to or not he could feel his barriers being breached by this young man. He was closer than he ever wanted anyone to see and he's only known him for only a few minutes really.

"So, what exactly do you do there… um…."

"Oh," Nick realized how rude he had been. There they were just talking away and Greg had no idea who he was. He figured he really should extend the same courtesy to Greg that he had extended to him. "Nick Stokes," he answered extending his hand.

"Pleasure meeting you Nick," he accepted the offered hand and shook it with a confident grip. "Anyways, what exactly do you do for the Apollo Theatre? I hear tell that Mr. Schiffman is rather picky about the people he hires."

"I tend the bar, and keep the more rowdier crowd away," Nick smiled and took another bite of his temporarily forgotten sandwich.

"Maybe you should take the stage yourself," inquired Greg before turning his attention to another customer who just stepped into his diner. It wasn't long though before Greg again turned his full attention to him. Those soft brown eyes gazed almost dreamily into his and Nick knew that there was something special about Greg.

"I don't think so," Nick chuckled at the thought of him actually singing in front of a room full of people. "I think I'll pass."

"Suit yourself," Greg propped himself up on his elbow and continued to scan over his weary patron. He wondered slightly to himself how this man got in this condition and deep down promised himself to pull this man out of this slump from his ears if it was necessary. From the way Nick reciprocated though, he doubted that would be much of a problem. He was sure that Nick would pull himself up from his own freewill. Then there was something he had to ask about.

"What brings a country boy to Manhattan?" Greg couldn't help himself form asking. Not when Nick made it so easy for him to pick out.

"How'd you know I'm from the country?"

"Well," Greg started. "For one thing, you talk like a hick."

"What, I do not," Nick denied.

"Do to," continued Greg. He didn't have to point that out to his guest, but it was fun to raz him a bit. "Anyways, I think it fits you nicely. So, do you bull ride?" Greg said noticing the large buckle Nick wore to his belt.

"Yeah, a little bit," Nick blushed.

It wasn't his intention to ride the bull in the rodeo, it's just his friend took a hoof to the groin and asked if Nick would compete in his place. Of course, Nick had no idea at the time what exactly he agreed to do for his friend. He had no intention of ever sitting upon one of those beat's backs. Yet, there he sat, strapped onto a one-ton piece of solid meat. He just hoped that he wouldn't get bucked off the mere second the bull jumped out into the ring. Though from what he saw of the event, that was well within the realm of possibilities. He just hoped that when he did get knocked off he'd avoid the wrath of that angry beast. Before that day, he never imagined that he'd ever ride for eight seconds. Actually, he highly doubted that he'd make it that long.

When the gate opened and the bull started spinning, it was sheer fear that held him onto the angry bucking animal. Round and round he went and he just closed his eyes and held on for his dear life. The buzzer went off and the animal was still going around and around. He couldn't let go, he wouldn't let go. The bull was roped and brought to the ground before the clowns were able to pry the terrified man from the straps.

Nick was one of the few men who actually managed to stay on the bucking beats. Even though, his style was less than desired, he did manage it and he couldn't have been prouder of himself. Winning that buckle meant a lot to him, it really did. He wore it all the time, it was his favourite accessory to his outfit. There was no force on this planet that could make him take it off. With it on, Nick felt untouchable. Though, he often wondered how good he could be at the sport, he really had no ambition to tempt the fates more than he already did. To him, he was already the luckiest man around because he was able to actually hold onto that bucking monster for an unprecedented fourteen seconds.

Nick intended the visit to the diner to be brief and quiet. However, he never expected to spend the entire three hours talking to the merry owner of the diner named Phillie's. The hour was definitely growing late as seven o'clock drew nearer. It was time for Nick to be headed toward the Apollo Theatre for another night of tending the bar. He bid Greg Sanders goodbye and walked out the door.


	10. Forbidden Fruit

**The once Future King**

**Part Two: Hidden Truths**

--  
Chapter Ten:  
Forbidden Fruit  
--

Greg's words echoed in Nick's ears as he walked down the street toward the Apollo Theatre. He wondered if he was really that readable. Was he really that miserable that everyone could see it upon his face? He'd like to think he kept it well hidden, but perhaps it was a lie he told himself in order to feel better.

To some extent he wanted Eva to pursue her dreams and to be happy, but somewhere in his mind he wondered if those dreams were even obtainable. He hated to think lesser of his wife, but he had no proof she was even good at acting. In fact, all the evidence was telling him something completely different. Time after time, she couldn't get a gig as an actress in this town. Maybe it was that they were new and she hadn't made the right connections yet. Nick would like to say that was it, but deep in his gut, he knew that wasn't it at all.

Nick drug his heels into the Apollo Theatre, two minutes early and casually took his position behind the bar. His thoughts dwelled on Greg's words and the way his eyes never broke contact with his the entire time they talked. It was as though nothing else in the world mattered to him except Nick's wellbeing and on some level that made him feel exceptionally special.

Sometime later Schiffman leaned over the bar observing his new employee carefully. There stood a man, deep in thought and he wondered if the man was all right. Ever since Nick first stepped into his office, he could tell the man had personal issues. However, up until tonight, he's managed to keep them quiet and to himself. Tonight was different though. It was as though something had drastically changed for the young man.

"Are you feeling all right?" Schiffman asked cautiously. One thing he knew for sure about Nick, was that he prided himself on being a private individual. However, seeing him in this condition really concerned him.

"Yeah, I'm feeling just fine," he answered. Maybe Nick was honest, maybe he wasn't, Schiffman couldn't tell. "Why do you ask?"

"Normally, you're conversing with the other patrons or jamming to the music. Tonight, your mind seems lost, scattered almost," he observed.

"I just have some things to think about, that's all," Nick gave a small non-convincing smile and continued to stare off into the distance.

"You'll have to excuse the bartender tonight," Schiffman informed the crowded room, and disappeared into his office.

For most of the night, Nick stood there idly handing out alcoholic beverages until the patrons left promptly at eleven o'clock. It always struck odd that the theatre would close at such an early hour, but it was not his facility to decide the hours for. As he did most evenings, he cleaned up his bar and brought out a broom to help the other's clean up the music club.

He didn't have to help clean the place. Schiffman hired a full janitorial staff, mostly immigrants trying to afford their own apartments down in the slums of this massive city. It was well past midnight before he left the Apollo Theatre to walk back down the street toward the dingy apartment where he and his wife lived. It was the last place on Earth he wanted to return to, but he knew he couldn't run away. He promised Eva upon their wedding day that he wouldn't leave her when things god difficult. However, he didn't know how he could continue this quasi loving relationship.

The streets were silent as he walked the familiar path back to his rundown home. Across the street he could see the light on Phillie's switch off and Greg making his way toward the door. He stopped for a second and watched this interesting man. For a second, he considered walking over to the mysterious young man he talked with for so many hours.

It turns out he didn't have to go to Greg. From the moment Greg turned to walk away from his shop he saw Nick standing there. From Greg's eyes, he looked like a fish out of the water. His brown eyes were filled with sadness and uncertainty to the point it nearly broke his heart. Oh, he hid his emotional condition well. On some levels, he wished Nick were better at hiding his emotions.

He was just closing down shop, and considered ignoring the sight of his old lover from years long forgotten. However, he couldn't make his legs work in that direction.

"Nick," he called across the street to the man intently watching him.

The young man stood dumbfounded as Greg ran over to him panting a bit as to catch his breath from the quick jot across the street. His eyes appeared weary as one might expect after a long day's work of slaving over a hot griddle all day.

This night was clear and calm as the breeze barely blew through the narrow streets of the big city. An awkward moment took command over the two young men.

"I thought I could walk you over to your place," Greg said softly.

"If you don't mind, I would rather go alone," Nick replied softly trying not to offend Greg in any way. "I… I have some things I need to think about," he reasoned with the man. It was a soft flimsy excuse, but he hoped Greg would buy this little white lie.

"Is that what you really want, Nick?" Greg asked. His brown eyes fixed upon Nick's. If looks could talk, Greg's would be saying a thousand words at that moment. Nick could feel his knees grow weak under the heated glare of the young diner owner. He wouldn't look away, and he most certainly wasn't going to back away. One thing was certain, he didn't buy that little lie of Nick's and now, and he was getting one hell of a stare down for it.

"Are you going to answer?" Greg broke the silence and it was only then that Nick realized that he never answered.

The truth could be seen upon Nick's expressive face. He really didn't want to be alone, but didn't know what else to be. Nick was ashamed of the shambles his life had become, but was too proud to let any other man near enough to see.

The more Nick thought about it, the more he came to realize that he really didn't want to be alone.

"Are you sure that's what you want, Nick?" Greg asked again.

"No," replied Nick honestly. "I'm not sure what I want any more," he whispered so quietly that Greg's ears had to strain hard to hear his response.

"Well, I'm sure on what I want," answered Greg definitively.

"You are?" Nick choked out surprised to hear such open honesty. It's been a while since anyone in his life had been so honest with him. It was a sad realization to make, because he for one would like to think that the people in his life were honest to him. Yet, he knew they were far from honest with him. For years now, he's kept his mouth shut about it, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep quiet when all he wanted to do was scream it out for the world to hear.

His heart fluttered seeing the young man nod and the smile pulling at his thin lips. Still, he could not explain this reaction to the young diner owner, but he tried his best to hide these inappropriate responses to these small occurrences.

Nick could barely keep his eyes off the exotic person walking beside him. The man continued to jabber almost mindlessly as they walked down the street. Greg spoke constantly over one topic or another. All he could figure was Greg rambled when he was nervous. What the young man beside him was nervous about, Nick hadn't a clue. He answered the younger man whenever he had the opportunity, but mostly he just listened to the man rattle on and on about one thing or another.

"So," Greg finally took a breath. It was the first breath that Nick could recall Greg taking the entire time they spent walking toward his apartment. The man spent almost every millisecond jabbering his head off. This was the first pause he actually heard from the man since they started down this road. "If reincarnation really existed, what would you be?"

"Huh?" Nick asked confused on how they got to the subject of reincarnation.

"You know, have a life after death on this planet in a different form."

"Yeah, I know what it is," Nick snapped.

"I did it again, didn't I?" Greg suddenly stopped walking. His face flushed red with embarrassment, and his lips were bitten between his teeth.

"Did what again?" Nick asked cautiously. By this point in the conversation, Nick was hopelessly and irreparably lost. He would like to think he had listened to everything Greg said, but truth was he only caught a small portion of what was actually said.

"I… I…" His head tilted down and Nick could tell his new friend became quite self conscious in these past few minutes. It was as though Greg never even realized he was talking his ever loving mind away. Truthfully, Nick didn't mind. He actually enjoyed hearing the young man ramble on and on about precious nothing. "I tend to… um… ramble when I'm… nervous."

"That's all right," Nick quickly assured him. "I like hearing you talk."

"Where were we?"

"I think we were talking about what we would be if reincarnation actually existed," Nick recalled. "What would you be?"

"Me, probably a silly ground squirrel. You know the kind that always chases each other around, climbing trees, and eating nuts all day long."

Nick couldn't help but chuckle at the comment. Partly because he really could see Greg running amuck in the streets with that long fluffy tail flopping behind him as he darted up the nearest tree. He couldn't explain why this fit his new friend, but it most certainly did.

"What would you be?" Greg asked almost cautiously.

"Probably a bird," Nick replied honestly. Ever since he was a kid growing up on the ranch he always wondered what it would be like to fly. In the summer he used to watch the brightly coloured jays fly around picking on the poor unsuspecting cats as they came too near to their precious nests. From where Nick stood, flight represented liberty and freedom. The ability to spread their wings and fly away upon the currents in the sky was a freedom he wasn't allotted here and now.

Nick tried to explain his desire to fly to the young diner owner as they again began to walk in the direction of his apartment. Even though he explained this desire horribly to the young man walking beside him, continued to listen.

"Well, this is it," Nick said as the couple stepped up to the old red bricked building. "Home sweet hell."

"Could be worse," Greg mentioned on the surroundings. "Have a good night Nick, I will see you tomorrow," Greg turned to walk away.

"Hey, would you like a place to stay for the night?" Nick asked.

It wasn't a secret that this neighbourhood was lousy. The buildings were all built on a penny budget as fast as they could be erected. At least once a week some poor unsuspecting person was mugged and sometimes even killed violently on the street corners. The last thing Nick wanted was for something like that to happen to Greg. He had only just met the man, but he found himself really wanting to know more about him. Everything if it were possible. The young diner owner fascinated Nick to no end and the last thing he wanted to see was that same young man dead on some street corner for a buck twenty-five.

"Nah, I'll be fine," Greg assured Nick. "I'll call a cab at the corner."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," Greg attempted to soothe Nick's concerns. They might've been well founded, but Greg could take care of himself. "I'll be fine," he said one last time and walked away.

Six months have come and gone. Nick would like to say they were better, but truth was things were no better than the day they first arrived in the Big Apple. His marriage was a complete disaster zone. His life was in shambles. The only refuge he had was Phillie's.

Going to Phillie's became near ritualistic for Nick. Every day he would bid farewell to his lovely redheaded wife and depart with a kiss. He'd set off in the early afternoon, having convinced his wife Mr. Schiffman needed him to come in early for their daily matinee. It was a lie of course, just a reason to leave the house and not have to deal with Eva's bitching about it all the time. Nick wasn't keen on lying, but it was the only way he could escape his life.

Every afternoon, he'd take the same seat he always took, and met with a steaming hot cup of black coffee. Today was no different. The birds sang upon his way in from his apartment. He walked through the door clanging the cowbell hard against the glass and took his seat in the usual spot.

"Nice to see you again, Mr. Stokes," Greg greeted him. Every day it was the same greeting, and every day Nick loved to hear it. "Will coffee be it today?"

Since the second day Nick walked through that glass door into the Phillie's Diner, he never asked for anything other than coffee served black. He never took it with sugar or even ordered food, unless he was absolutely starving. Not that Greg would've minded his favourite customer.

"Just the usual cup o' jo," Nick took his seat and waited for that white mug to slide across the long sweeping bar.

"So, is Eva having any luck with the acting gig?" inquired Greg, propping his head upon his head pretending as though he really wanted to know. By this time, Nick knew the diner owner really didn't want to know whether Eva was having luck or not. He just wanted to hear Nick talk. In some ways it gave him the creeps, but he never said anything about it.

"Not really," Nick chuckled weakly and was thankful Greg never delved deeper into the subject of Eva. After all, he came to Phillie's to escape her clutches.

As for Greg, he never said anything to Nick about his views on Eva, or even about Nick himself. He figured Nick didn't come in every day to hear how his life was tormenting him to no end tearing his insides apart piece by piece. He knew that Nick didn't need to hear how miserable he looked every day he walked into his establishment. It nearly broke his heart to see this hallowed out man every day. What hurt the most though, was the knowledge that all his suffering was for nothing. All the sacrifices he made, the pain, the heartache, all so Nick could have a better life. For what, to see this man, worn down to his last thread looking miserable and unhappy every single day?

Every time Nick sat at the bar, Greg could see the anguish written over his ex-lover's face as though it were ink in a book. There was no end to the troublesome thoughts that swirled constantly in Greg's head. In the end, there really wasn't much point in ending them. Nick wasn't going to go home with him, sleep in his bed and remember what he left behind so many years ago.

Back then, leaving Nick seemed like the best thing for both of them. Somewhere in Greg's mind, he had figured that Nick would be just as happy without him in his life and would take a wife as everyone would hope. And Nick did all these things. She was a beautiful, sweet wife that everyone figured would make Nick the happiest man on earth. Somehow, Greg got the idea that everything would work out better if they were separated, especially, since the accident and Nick's amnesia.

Greg watched Nick walk into his diner every day, and order the same mug of coffee. Hearing Nick's words, the way he talked so softly about his life screamed to the young diner owner that he was far from happy. Now, on a daily basis, Greg found himself regretting the decision to leave Nick standing on the porch watching as he toted his trunks to the bus at the end of the dirt drive. Even then, Greg knew that in the long run that wasn't the best answer for Nick. Now, all he could do was see it every day that it was indeed the wrong decision to make and it broke his heart to dime-sized pieces.

About two months ago, Nick finally asked the young diner owner if he had seen him somewhere before. Not knowing what to say, or how to answer, Greg answered the question more or less with a shrug. It was then that Nick divulged the man looked familiar to him as though he spent several summer days lounged out on the riverbanks fishing for perch. Then, he confessed that he couldn't remember much from his youth and adolescence due to a car crash that rendered him with some memory loss. It was then that Greg wondered if he should tell his young troubled patron upon their previous encounters. It was then that Greg really knew that Nick was never happy with his marriage to Eva. Even if at times their marriage was blissful, Nick was never truly in love with her.

Every day, he listened to Nick's latest sob story hanging on to each and every word. It was true, he enjoyed listening to Nick talk, and it meant a lot to him that Nick was comfortable enough to talk to him so openly. Some days he would talk about very little, but others he'd talk about Eva's latest audition or his work at the Apollo theatre.

"I was thinking," Nick started a bit shyly.

Greg loved to hear that phrase come out of his mouth. Somehow it always gave him a bit of hope to hear that this beautiful man still hasn't lost his desire to continue to better himself.

"About?" Greg urged the young man to continue.

"Singing at the Apollo. You know they have amateur night every Tuesday evening."

"You should," encouraged Greg. If his voice sounds amazing while talking, Greg could only imagine what it would sound like singing. He was nearly hard from that alone.

"Maybe I will, someday" Nick idly commented. There was that look again. That gleam in Greg's eyes, the one that usually sends legions of shivers down his spine. The very one that made his knees grow weak. It was as though his soft brown eyes could peer right through his skin.

This wasn't on the first occasion Nick discovered Greg acting semi-flirtatious toward him. The funny thing was it didn't seem to bother him. In fact, Nick rather enjoyed the soft googly eyes, and the soft curl of his sexily slender smile. Even on occasion, he even found him reciprocating his flirtations. Returning the touches, Greg gently placed upon his arm and gazing upon his soft face with loving eyes. It was as though a part of him actually remembered Greg in this way. Somewhere deep within his memory, he could have recalled these feelings that resided within, dormant. Feelings he kept well hidden, because they were not feelings any civilized person could consider remotely normal. This hadn't been the first time a man had done this to him, but this was the first time Nick ever considered exploring this particular aspect of his sexuality.

With Greg, Nick actually considered delving into his hidden sexuality, and exploring these near-primal urges he contained within. There was something about the way he was wired that made Greg almost irresistible. He was the forbidden fruit, and Nick was Eve just wanting to take that first bite.

_'What are you thinking Stokes, you can't have him.'_ He tried to convince himself foolishly that Greg was off limits for him. _'He's a man, Poncho, you're a man. It's not natural.'_ Again he tried to dissuade himself from openly expressing his desire for this beautiful man. It wasn't permitted. In fact, same sex relationships were downright tabooed in society and the people who participated in such actions were looked down upon as though they were some scourge of the universe that needed to be squashed. No, Nick couldn't allow himself to think of Greg in such a sexually appealing way.

From the expressions passing through Nick's eyes, Greg could see the moral dilemma raging within him, as a thunderstorm rages across the Midwest. It was clear that on some level deep down, Nick could recall some aspect about them. Whether or not he'd let himself see it was a different story, but Greg could see that he at least could remember something. Greg supposed that was better than nothing at all, but it wasn't much. All he could do at this point was just hope that maybe Nick would someday let himself see and understand the feelings he has within him for what they were. Nick wasn't there yet, but he could see that someday there might be a chance. That small possibility of a chance was the only thing that kept Greg getting up in the morning.


End file.
